


New York, New York

by Thatmalu



Series: Homes Series [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bill Denbrough & Eddie Kaspbrak Are Best Friends, Bisexual Richie Tozier, College, Dead Pennywise (IT), Depression, Derry (Stephen King) is Terrible, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Everyone Is Alive, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, Mental Health Issues, New York City, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Pennywise (IT), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sequel, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Stressed Eddie Kaspbrak, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, the shine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 78,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23440399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatmalu/pseuds/Thatmalu
Summary: Eddie is learning to deal with the past abuse and trauma that tormented his youth. He knows deep down he loves his life in New York with Richie and Stan, but with the other Losers so distant and the creeping shame plaguing his thoughts, he wonders if his love for Richie is strong enough to get him through this... because there's something beyond earthly slowly happening to him.A fic where the Losers all remember that stupid fucking clown and the universe isn’t done with them yet.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Richie's Sister, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris
Series: Homes Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686856
Comments: 86
Kudos: 84





	1. There's not a word yet for old friends that have just met.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I just want to say first and foremost that if you have not (and do not want to) read the previous work in this series, you do not necessarily have to! I am leaving context clues for newbies to enjoy this on it's own! If you would like to read it, this is an extension of the Epilogue, so be warned before you finish! Link is here:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22518043/chapters/53808454
> 
> If you didn't read it and DON'T want spoilers, please don't continue this note. 
> 
> ****SPOILERS OF PREVIOUS WORK****
> 
> This second part will be taking place in 1998, just over four years after the events of This Was Always Your Home. All the Losers at this point are 22. Eddie took a year off of college and is trying his best to catch up, but events of the past and his PTSD are haunting him. Much like the novel, Eddie has lost his right arm, but this time he's alive and physically well besides that, and still is adjusting to not having it. He and Richie are still living together with Stan as their roommate, and he's the only one still going to school, feeling like he's falling behind as all his friends are trying to start their young-adult lives.  
> Also, Eddie possesses some aspects of Shine, some of which come directly from the novel (and were robbed of seeing in film), others inspired by The Shining itself.
> 
> Some general TW for this fic: PTSD, panic attacks, depression, suicidal thoughts/ideations, past abuse/child abuse, drug dependence, non-explicit acts of violence, college drinking, homophobia, homophobic slurs, ableist language, bisexual erasure/biphobia, consensual sexual content (oral, anal, handjobs), and more to add if I'm forgetting any!
> 
> But as always, Stephen King is depressing enough, I'm giving my boys happy endings.  
> 

It was nearing October in Eddie Kaspbrak’s final year of college, and he sat at a desk in the far back of his class, wiping some tears from his eyes from his excessive yawning. He was still kicking himself for choosing such an early class, but the elective was not offered at any other times that didn’t conflict with his schedule. Thankfully, it was not overly crowded at this time, so he was able to enjoy some solitude in his little corner away from the other students, who were mostly freshman eating away at the easy core studies classes when they weren’t bogged down by other high-level courses taking up their time. Eddie had screwed himself up, only needing 3 more classes’ total, but one wasn’t available until Spring and he was stuck here for the rest of the fucking year. To top it off, he had to keep a full-time schedule to keep his scholarship, which he wasn’t going to risk losing at NYU prices. At least his internship offered credit, and he was hoping it would lead him to a real, paid job at the end of all this.

Eddie was exhausted, having spent his night, like most nights, staying up just to listen to Richie’s voice on the radio. He was at a point now where he was purposefully exhausting himself, staying up and keeping his senses busy until he was so tired he could finally fall asleep without those horrible thoughts creeping into his head. And, usually, when he had Richie there in bed he could focus on that, sometimes use Richie’s body and his own to tire them both out and dream much more pleasantly. The other days he’d cling desperately to the sounds on the radio, Richie’s voice between the songs cracking jokes to make Eddie smile, just in case he was listening. Then, after Richie signed off, Eddie paced around his room, burying his face in a textbook or puzzle until he heard Richie coming home, when he’d jump into bed and pretend he had been sleeping all along.

Eddie almost startled when he felt someone sit in the seat directly on his left. His head immediately was drawn to the girl that invaded his peripherals; a girl about his size with wavy, mousy hair that fell just passed her chin, staring directly at Eddie with a wide smile on her face.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked in a light and pleasant voice.

Eddie very much did mind, having had purposefully sat away from as many students as possible to avoid conversation with the lower classman. But, she seemed very sweet and Eddie felt bad telling her to fuck off, so he just shook his head and started rhythmically bouncing his pencil up and down on its eraser onto his notebook while he waited for his professor to arrive.

“You’re a senior, right?” the girl continued, drumming her own fingers on her desk while she settled her backpack down.

“Mmm,” Eddie responded.

“That must be exciting,” she pressed, and Eddie could feel her smiling brightly at him still while she was pulling something out of her backpack. “What’s your major?”

“Uh, Statistics,” Eddie grumbled. He hated small talk. And, usually he hated people. He preferred they leave him alone and let him interact at his own discretion.

“Wow,” she said with awe. “That’s impressive. That must be why you’re doing the best in the class.”

Eddie sighed. “Is that why you’re sitting here?”

There was silence for a moment, and he turned to see her blushing slightly, her smile faded. He didn’t really feel too bad; he’d rather her just get to the point where she’d ask for all the answers to everything.

“I’m not doing as well as I thought I would,” she admitted, looking down at a pink binder, neatly organized with tabs to separate notes for her courses. “I was top in my high school, but now I just feel really overwhelmed by everything we have to do for these classes.” She looked up at him again. “I don’t want to bother you too much; I just thought maybe you’d have some pointers?”

“Well, the first thing I do is stay away from everyone distracting me from my note-taking,” Eddie said dryly.

“Right,” she said, face falling more. “Sorry, I can leave you alone.”

But suddenly, Eddie felt a strange tug; it wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation, rather one he’d had hundreds of times. Sometimes, it helped him with small things, like navigating the subway when he first moved to New York with Richie and Stan. Those little tugs were subtle, and he never seemed to get lost anywhere he went and was always able to find his way to places he never even knew existed but _wanted_ to go. Other times, those tugs were warnings. Those usually were accompanied by a feeling of dread and would sometimes be followed by something quite terrible if he ignored them, like killer clowns disguised as lepers, or his mother finding out about his sexuality and nearly beating his face into a pulp. But this little tug felt different, and he felt this overwhelming urge to keep this girl here next to him.

“Wait,” Eddie said, making the girl pause as she went to grab her binder and leave. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be rude. My – my roommate, Richie, he works late nights at a radio station and comedy clubs and he woke me up way too early coming home from one of them, so I’m just tired.” Eddie left out that Richie also welcomed himself home by giving Eddie a blowjob at 4 AM, but felt himself blush slightly as the memory invaded his thoughts. He tried offering her a small smile in sincerity, and she seemed to relax, smiling back at him. “Honestly, the basic classes just give so much work because there’s so much material to cover, it feels more overwhelming than it should be.”

“Do many married couples have roommates?”

“Huh? Oh,” said Eddie, as she gestured to his ring. “Not technically married, I’m just… promised.” God, that sounded fucking lame, but it’s not his fault he couldn’t get married.

“Aww, that’s really sweet! So what brings a Statistics major into, uh, Societal Analysis of Sex and Gender Studies?”

“Uh, I needed a cultural class for my core studies. My minor is in mathematics, also, so they’re hard to come by in my curriculum. I kind of just picked one that fit my schedule.” This wasn’t entirely false, but Eddie also picked the class because he had slowly made friends at various LGBT events and bars Richie would bring him to, and he was truly fascinated to learn more about the culture in general, maybe a little bit about himself. “What about you?”

“My brother is gay,” she said bluntly, though she tensed slightly as though she expected Eddie to react. He only offered another smile. “My parents kicked him out, and he’s been living in Brooklyn with some friends he met in a youth center. He got in touch with me, so I decided to dorm here and live a bit closer to him. My parents were furious I didn’t go to Georgetown or Harvard, but they don’t know I still talk to him so they still help with the tuition. I saw the class and thought it would be really cool to learn more without my parent’s homophobia.” She said it all kind of in a rush, like it was a splinter she had been dying to pull out of her skin.

“I’m really sorry,” Eddie offered. He felt a tug again. “I left my mom’s just before I graduated high school. I, uh…” He swallowed hard, trusting that stupid instinct to blabber on. “She found out I was gay. She was going to send me away to some kind of conversion camp. Offered a small souvenir before I left,” he added, pointing at the left side of his face, with some minor visible scars left from her hitting him with a frying pan several times. And thankfully, the girl looked sincerely at him, no trace of disgust or alarm. Eddie let himself continue, hoping to ease her concerns. “But, my boyfriend Richie’s parents let me stay with them until we moved here. We came from a small town in Maine, so the change was really refreshing.”

“I wish I could say the same, but I’m from Queens. Is this the roommate that works as a DJ?” the girl asked, smirking.

Eddie chuckled at that. “Comedian, actually.”

“So it’s the same Richie, then? You guys are still together?”

Eddie felt his cheeks spread into an instinctual smile. “Yeah. We _would_ probably be married if we could be. We kind of always have been together though, before we even knew it, it a weird way.”

The girl giggled, and Eddie felt a light, floaty feeling hearing it, and it made him smile more. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he was going to like this girl.

“Hey, have you been to a college party yet?” Eddie blurted.

“Ha, no. I made a couple friends, but they’re more like lab partners. I usually spend my weekends hanging in the dorm.”

“Well, one of the DJ’s at Richie’s station invited us to a really low-key house party in the village – me, Richie, and our roommate Stan.” He felt really good when he said Stan’s name. “It’s not crazy, usually pretty chill. You should come and meet some people. You can bring a friend or, uh, lab partner if you want. Here – ”

Eddie wrote his phone number down, feeling her beaming at him from the side.

“Oooh, a lefty,” she said. “I thought they were usually artsy types, not math geniuses.”

“Not much of a choice,” Eddie said, smiling tightly as he tugged the tied up sleeve on his right shoulder, revealing the absence of is right limb. Her eyes darted over and she immediately let out a gasp and blushed nearly crimson.

“Oh, my god, I – I didn’t mean to – I never noticed in class – ”

“No worries,” Eddie said immediately, ripping the page out of his notebook gracefully and handing his info over to her. “Honest mistake. For $10 I’ll even dramatically reenact the accident, Shakespearean dialogue and all.”

The girl let out a shaky, awkward laugh, taking the phone number carefully. “Was it a car accident?”

“A mutant shape shifting clown from outer space bit it off.” The girl blinked at him. “Just kidding. I got shot.” It was a joke, but he’d bet anything if his mother never shot him and he somehow never killed the very-real evil clown in the sewers, his arm or maybe his entire body would’ve been a goner eventually. It was just a feeling.

She winced at his comment, but wore that sincere expression again before looking down at his number. She smiled again and looked up at him. “Nice to meet you, Eddie K.”

“Nice to meet you, too, uh…?”

“Patty Blum.”

Eddie reached out his left hand, turning it so she could shake it more properly with her right. “Let’s get your grades up, shall we Patty?”

After his cultural class, Patty lent Eddie a book she had just finished in exchange of him agreeing to help her with classes. Eddie said goodbye to Patty and headed back to the business department on campus to take one of his last statistics electives (Decision Models and Analytics), which Eddie found initially interesting until he sat in his first lecture and fell asleep trying to listen to his ancient professor drawl like it was physically hurting him to let out more than one syllable every 5 seconds. At least today, he had Patty’s book to occupy him as he clicked away with his attendance remote to show his participation by answering class questions. He found himself particularly excited to tell not only Richie, but Stan about the freshman girl he met who wanted to be a school teacher. However, as he made his way back to his apartment in SoHo and had nothing but his thoughts to distract him as he walked, another creeping feeling made its way into him, one he had been trying to push down since restarting school this semester. He tried not to think about it.

Eddie had forgotten that Stanley was working all day and had a mini heart attack when he walked in to Richie lying along the couch buck-ass nude.

“Richie!” Eddie shouted, throwing his backpack off his shoulder. “That is a SHARED couch! Do you have to rub your dick all over it?”

“I never hear you complain when we fuck on the couch,” Richie scoffed, before throwing a hand on his hip and lifting one of his legs slightly. “Draw me like one of your French girls.”

“But this is a _new_ couch. What are you even doing?” Eddie asked, sitting right at Richie’s groin, like he was trying to shield the poor apartment from Richie’s junk. Richie responded first by pulling Eddie down into a kiss.

“It’s Monday, my handsome hunk,” Richie whispered, his lips pulling up into a grin. “Stan is out all day. Let’s break in the sofa.”

Eddie was still a _little_ annoyed about that, but also wouldn’t mind distracting himself by having Richie’s hands all over him, so he pressed Richie firmly down and kissed him more deeply. He felt Richie’s low chuckle vibrate up from his throat into their kiss and Eddie pulled back. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just giddy,” Richie replied, reaching up to stroke Eddie’s cheek. “Our schedules suck right now. I missed you.”

“Didn’t we have this conversation not 8 hours ago?”

Richie chuckled again. “That was just a foreplay blowjob. And not to sound too romantic, but I haven’t had anything up my ass in over a week and it’s making me antsy.”

Eddie didn’t mean to frown by default, but Richie definitely noticed the knit between Eddie’s eyebrows. Eddie had no right to complain, considering how amazing things were with Richie, always, but the one small problem with being verse was when they both wanted the same thing.

“Sorry,” Eddie said immediately, noticing Richie’s expression.

“You don’t have to – ”

“No, no, I’ll fuck you, it’s fine.”

Richie let out a hearty laugh at that, shifting all of his weight up and dragged Eddie onto his lap. “Don’t sound so goddamn enthusiastic about it, _babe._ ”

Eddie groaned; of all the nicknames, that was only one he truly, actually hated. They reserved calling each other that when they wanted to subtly make fun of people in public. “Fuck off.”

“Nah, I’ll just fuck you,” Richie growled, his large hands immediately snaking up Eddie’s shirt, pushing him back onto the couch and pulling him under him once he discarded the clothing. Richie had touched him a million times at least, but it always tickled initially when his fingers dragged alongside his ribs and the sensitive tissues along his scars, and Richie loved teasing him. Of course, Eddie only had the one arm to fight back, which wasn’t exactly fair, but there truthfully wasn’t any way Richie could touch him that he _didn’t_ like.

“Wait. You can – I mean, I’ll – you can bottom on top. I mean, you can let me fuck you under you,” Eddie stammered at Richie’s increasingly amused expression.

“So _flustered_ , Eddie my love,” he muttered with a grin, pressing his teeth against the soft skin on Eddie’s thighs while he took Eddie’s pants off. “All this time, you still act like we’re teenagers.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned, throwing his head back. “I’m just _tired._ Just sit on my dick, Richie, I don’t want to move.” He lifted his head up slightly when Richie guffawed and felt Richie’s face finally lean back up into his, smirking still.

“As you wish, love.”

As enthusiastic as Richie was, the angle wasn’t quite hitting his spot as well as other positions, and Eddie finished much faster than Richie. But exhausted as Eddie was, he was generous; he wasn’t going to leave Richie hanging like that.

But they were definitely never telling Stanley what they did to that poor couch.

Stan wouldn’t be back for several hours, so Eddie agreed pants were pointless, placing a pillow on Richie’s lap so he could read a book comfortably on Richie while Richie played on their Playstation, both enjoying the freedom of being naked in the apartment.

“What’s the book?” Richie asked after some time, noticing how engrossed and quiet Eddie was.

“Harry Potter and the…” Eddie twisted the book to read the spine. “Sorcerer’s Stone. It’s cute; it’s about some abused kid who finds out he can do magic.”

Richie made a strange noise from his throat and Eddie looked up at him.

“What?”

“Sounds like you,” Richie said as lightly as possible, despite the dark connotations, ruffling Eddie hair before putting his hand back on the controller.

“It’s different kind of magic, not stupid navigation skills,” Eddie laughed. “They wear old robes and live in secret castles and use wands.”

“Dope. Just like D&D. Where’d you get it?”

“Oh!” Eddie gasped. “A girl in my class gave it to me. I made a new friend.”

“Girl? Gross.”

“She was really nice. I invited her to Jack’s party.”

“What, why?” Richie asked, looking down. “You just met her. She could be after your kidney. Or worse, your dick.”

Eddie shrugged. “Nah, she knows I’m gay. I just had a feeling about her.” Richie didn’t have a response for that, since usually, as Richie had suggested, Eddie’s almost magic sense of intuition was right. “Stan would probably like her.”

“Nah uh. Stan’s dating someone.”

“Correction, Stan’s _breaking up_ with someone.”

“Nope. He’s too pussy.”

Eddie frowned, putting his book down; Stan and Richie told each other everything, so of course Richie knew stuff Eddie didn’t. “What changed his mind?”

“Batting eyelashes and blowjob lips.”

Eddie smacked Richie in the ribs. “Cut it out, Stan’s not like that. She’s a total dick! And she _hates_ both of us, and I’ve never even met her.”

Richie sighed, putting his controller down and started to stroke through Eddie’s hair, his other hand resting comfortably on Eddie’s chest above the book. “He hasn’t been seeing Sam because she’s been on a cruise with her family. He’s supposedly going to pick her up from JFK Friday afternoon and break up with her in person.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, feeling a bit better. “Then he’ll be single by the party.”

Richie sighed again and patted Eddie on the head. “Whatever you say, my honey bunches of oats.”

Eddie very much welcomed Patty sitting with him again that week Wednesday and Friday morning, even meeting with her early to go over her other classes and some study techniques. It was a really good distraction, and he was also becoming quite fond of her. She wasn’t quite as fiery as his beloved Beverly, or as crazy as friends he met through Richie, but she was so damn gentle and genuine, Eddie felt pulled towards her like waves to the moon.

“Listen, Eds,” Richie was saying Friday evening, getting himself a beer from Jack’s fridge, the bass of the music from the next room thumping through Eddie’s bones. “I know you want to play match maker, and it’s adorable, but something tells me Stan is going to pussy out breaking up with Sam.”

“Okay, bet,” Eddie said defiantly, setting down a bottle of white wine because Eddie was exactly the type of man to bring that sort of thing to a college party.

“Wait, Eddie invited girls?” came an eager voice behind him, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Straight ones, Erica,” Richie said, leaning against the kitchen counter and blocking the fridge with his large frame. “Keep your strap-on in your pocket.”

“No one is 100% straight, Trashmouth,” Erica said, leaning on Eddie, which he fucking _hated_ , trying to shove her off. He didn’t care for Erica. He always hoped he’d snag one of her facial piercings with his ring and make her face bleed; accidentally, of course.

“Bullshit, I’m 100% gay,” Eddie mumbled. “And get your gorilla arms off of me.”

“Aw, but you’re such a cute little armrest,” she squealed, going to pinch his cheek, which was a mistake to do in front of Richie who hip-checked her away from Eddie.

“Piss off, he’s not a toy,” Richie said. “Go find a carpet to munch.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed, moving along to take beer out of the fridge Richie was blocking before. “I’ll keep my hands off your twink. Just stop bringing around your fag hags.” She winked at Eddie before heading out into the living area, where most of the guests were already playing beer-pong and other low-key party shit. Eddie glared at her. She was one of the few assholes from Richie’s circle, but she was usually accompanied by her unfortunate but sweet girlfriend, Barb. Suddenly, Eddie felt someone pinch his cheek, and he swatted Richie off of him.

“I mean, you _are_ an adorable armrest.”

“Fuck off you beanstalk,” Eddie chuckled, but he pressed himself firmly into Richie’s side, Richie throwing his arm around Eddie to squeeze him into a half-hug. Eddie missed being able to squeeze him back, but he reached his left arm over and patted Richie’s gut. “Best be careful, you’re going to end up getting a dad bod.”

Richie pulled back, his face in mock-offense. “I beg your pardon, but I am a sexy beast.”

“I wasn’t arguing that, Pillsbury Dough Boy,” Eddie said, reaching out to pinch Richie’s side. Richie made an almost perfect impersonation of the stupid laugh from the commercials, which made Eddie laugh.

Eddie was a goddamn lightweight, but if he could get giddily tipsy off _one_ glass from a ten buck bottle of white wine, who the fuck was he to complain? He had a budget to keep, and his father’s inheritance was running thin, especially now that he had taken an extra year to finish his B.S. degree. And he was trying not to think about that.

Just as Eddie was coming down from the upstairs bathroom, he had looked into the kitchen to see Stanley had arrived and was talking to Richie, who looked mildly annoyed. He was about to go in, when he stopped and felt an urge to look back at the front door, where he saw Patty and another girl coming in, a black girl with pixie-short hair and sparkly purple eye shadow that matched her top. Patty looked pretty adorable, all Eddie’s gayness considered, wearing skin-tight black jeans that were ripped at the knees and an open-front flannel over a Pearl Jam shirt; very rock n’ roll.

“Hey!” Eddie shouted, throwing his arm up, sloshing some wine from his second glass and spilling down his arm. “Oops – hey, Patty!”

He saw her mouth form into a little ‘o’ in surprise, and gestured for her friend to follow her in.

“Hi!” Eddie shouted a little enthusiastically, his voice not having lowered as the girls got closer. He hadn’t ever seen Patty wear make up to class. “You look very pretty!”

“Thanks,” Patty giggled. “I see you’re enjoying the party.”

“Yup,” Eddie said brightly. “Who’s your friend?”

“Tasha,” her friend said smiling, going to shake Eddie’s hand, stopping and yanking her hand back abruptly when she noticed Eddie’s empty sleeve. Eddie was holding his wine glass with his only hand, so he just smiled, pretending not to notice. He also tried not to notice that they were both taller than him in boots.

“We have chemistry together,” said Patty.

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned dramatically. “I _hate_ chemistry; too many smells. I set a lab on fire once. Physics is much better. Here, come meet Richie and Stan!”

“Sure – Oh, hey!” Patty said, chuckling. “You’re wearing that shirt – well, I didn’t know it was a shirt, but you said that the other day.” She pointed to the writing on Eddie’s shirt that said ‘Arm Story: $10.’ Her friend looked uncomfortable, but Eddie just laughed.

“Ha, yeah, Richie got it for me. He’s right over here.”

Eddie led the way into the kitchen, and saw Richie’s demeanor immediately change once Eddie walked in, straightening up and smiling so endearingly at him, his face lighting up like the fucking sun; God, Eddie loved this big bird sized motherfucker.

“Hey!” Eddie said, cutting off something Stanley was saying.

“Hi,” Stanley grumbled, looking defeated, his eyes set on the floor.

“Girls, this is Stan and Richie,” Eddie continued, gesturing to them each. “This is my friend Patty. Oh, and her friend Tasha.”

“Eddie’s told me good things,” Richie said, smiling.

“Hi, Richie,” Tasha said, smiling with an unnervingly flirty glint in her eyes.

“Richie is _suuuuper_ gay,” Eddie slurred, narrowing his eyes and leaning towards Tasha pointedly, who looked a little weirded out. Patty just giggled; Stan finally looked up at the sound of it.

Richie just laughed heartily, putting his arm on Eddie’s shoulders and planting a small peck on the top of Eddie’s head. “I’m particularly fond of wine-drunk gremlins.”

Eddie looked over at Stan, but now Stan seemed to be purposefully looking anywhere that the girls weren’t; he seemed flustered and uncomfortable.

“I’m going to go say hi to Jack and Paul,” he said.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Eddie said, reaching out to Stan and sloshing some wine at him. “Why are you leaving so quickly?”

“I can’t stay long, I’m just stopping by,” Stan said, trying to back away.

“I brought wine! You love white!”

“He has to drive to Staten Island,” Richie said, rolling his eyes.

“Ew, on purpose?” Eddie said. “Why?”

“I gotta bring Sam home,” Stan said sheepishly. He was almost at the kitchen exit. “I’ll see you guys in a bit though.” He finally turned on his heel and left. Eddie frowned and looked up at Richie.

“Told you,” Richie grumbled, low enough for only Eddie to hear. “Sam’s at Mac’s, Stan’s meeting up to bring her home after. It was worth a shot, though.”

The girls let themselves roam the party freely while Richie and Eddie found some other friends. Eddie hadn’t seen Stan since their brief conversation in the kitchen. Eventually they split off so he and Richie could invite Patty and Tasha to play beer pong, although Patty opted to sip ginger ale instead. Eddie offered to be on her team to play against Richie and Tasha, attempting to talk to her a bit more. It was also fun seeing Richie play against him, and Tasha continue to, for some reason, attempt to flirt with Richie. Eddie was particularly amused when she gently brushed Richie’s arm and said they had a lot in common.

“Yeah, we probably both love sucking dick, too,” Richie said bluntly before taking a swig of beer, leaving Tasha horrified and ending the flirting from that point forward.

“So,” Patty said later on. “Which House did you decide on?”

“Hufflepuff,” Eddie said immediately. Patty burst out laughing.

“ _Hufflepuff_? Really?”

“We huffing and puffing some weed?” Richie interjected, tossing the pong ball to the next round of players.

“No, no,” Patty said, waving Richie off with a laugh.

“It’s from a book,” Tasha explained to him.

“Eddie, you are totally a Ravenclaw. _I’m_ a Ravenclaw, for sure. But seriously, Hufflepuff?”

“Hey,” Eddie said, swaying drunkenly as he pointed a finger at her. “Hufflepuff is as cool as the other houses.”

“Hufflepuff,” Richie intoned. “ _Super_ cool.”

“You don’t _know!_ ” Eddie said defensively, because this motherfucker didn’t even read the book. “They are _loyal_ and _patient_ and _hardworking_ , which I would _have_ to be to put up with your dumb ass. Also honey badgers are awesome as shit. They’ll _attack lions,_ Patty! Gryffindor ain’t got _shit_ on Hufflepuff _._ ”

“Where would you put Richie?” Patty asked curiously.

Eddie relaxed and looked at Richie intently, who simply looked confused as all hell. “Gryffindor.”

“Word,” Richie said.

“You didn’t even _read_ it, Richie!”

“Oh shit!” Tasha exclaimed, pointing across the room. “Barb is here!”

Eddie looked over and saw her pointing at their friend Barb, who was talking to Stan; his eyes kept darting over to them.

“You know Barb?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, we have a psych class together,” Tasha said.

“You should go make more friends!” Eddie shouted encouragingly at Patty. “Barb is really awesome! Her girlfriend is a total fucking dick, but Barb is cool.”

“You guys feel OK getting home from here?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, Tasha lives like a 2-minute walk away,” Patty said.

“Excellent. I’m going to say goodnight to Stan,” Richie said to Eddie. “Sit your drunken ass at the door; we should probably head out a little early.”

“OK,” Eddie said a little grumpily feeling like he probably should leave. “Patty!” he said again. “Make friends!”

“I will,” she giggled. “Get home safe, Eddie!”

Eddie was about to go get his wine bottle, but immediately turned back towards the door, remembering he drank the whole thing by himself already. He leaned back against the wall, looking over to see Tasha introducing Patty to Barb, Richie speaking rather seriously with Stan before patting him on the back and heading back to Eddie. He caught Barb introducing the girls to Stanley again before Richie reached him, shaking a water bottle in his direction.

“Ready to sober up, stud muffin?”

“Ready!” Eddie cheered, pushing himself off the wall and dizzily falling back against it. He lifted his arm up like a toddler. “Carry me.”

Richie chuckled at him, pulling Eddie up by the waist so Eddie could get up without wobbling, taking the water from Richie. “We have a pit stop to make first, so drink that up. And then,” Richie pulled Eddie in tighter, a grin spreading across his face, his other hand tilting Eddie chin up to look at him. “I’ll let you ravage me back in the lion’s den you little honey badger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's going to be discussed frequently in this fic (read tags and TW), I'll try adding these as a friendly reminder. I know you can always look them up, and it's always good to check on your loved ones and friends, but I personally found them helpful, and even had a then-boyfriend sit with me to help me call when I needed it and he knew he couldn't offer the kind of trained advise they offer.  
> Take care of yourselves <3
> 
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)
> 
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	2. Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I made a decision to finally start creating chapter titles. Hope it's helpful!  
> I also hope y'all take the TW's seriously if you need them, because they're going to start to become more relevant as the story continues and Eddie starts unraveling. And as another fair warning, Eddie being the central character doesn't mean his narration or thought process is the correct one.
> 
> TW for this chap: rape joke, consensual sex (detailed but not too explicit), bi-phobic remarks, inappropriate drug use

Eddie is happily stumbling back to the apartment when he feels Richie gently take his wrist to stop him from walking further. They were stood outside of a rowdy bar Eddie vaguely recognized, the front opened up completely by sliding partition walls folded into the sides to let the cool outside air into the place and attract outsiders into the chaotic atmosphere inside.

“Stay right here,” Richie said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okayyyy,” Eddie sang cheerfully, leaning against a phone pole. He watched Richie get checked by security up front before going in and looking around the crowd. Richie had the advantage of being taller than most people, so it didn’t seem to take him long to find who he was looking for. Eddie saw as Richie leaned forward on the bar and turned to a brunette on a barstool. Eddie wondered stupidly if Richie had gotten a new weed dealer that happened to be this random girl, but then she got up and started dragging a drunk friend along, both stumbling along and leaning on Richie for balance as he helped them out.

“Uh,” was all Eddie said before Richie began to explain.

“This is Bella and we need to bring her home,” Richie said, shaking the shoulder of the brunette, the clearly more sober of the two. The other girl, a blonde with smeared mascara running down her face was all sorts of inebriated. “She’s going to stay with Bella.”

“I _totally_ fucked the scooter dude in the bathroom!” she exclaimed to her friend, who apparently was named Bella.

“Yeah, we all know,” Bella said, rolling her eyes. “Scooter dude also looked homeless and you probably need an STD panel.”

The blonde looked up at Richie and smiled. “I wanna fuck him, too; are we gonna fuck him when we get home?”

“Oh god,” Richie grimaced, trying to wiggle away from her, while Eddie let out a single, loud “Ha!”

“Jesus girl, keep your panties on,” Bella said, grabbing onto her since Richie had snaked out of her grip. “Stan’s friends are going to walk us home so your dumb ho ass doesn’t get raped by someone you _don’t_ want to fuck.”

“That seems like a short list,” Richie grumbled.

“Oh,” the blonde said, turning to Eddie and laughing. “Oh! This one looks like he’s gonna get raped if _we_ don’t walk him home, poor little baby.”

“Richie, why the fuck – ”

“Blame Stan,” Richie grumbled, ushering the girls along. “I’m just doing the dumb fuck a favor. For fucks sake, Bella, where do you live?”

“Not far,” Bella said, her voice strained as she helped drag her friend along. It probably wasn’t that far, but her friend had such drunk ADHD she kept stopping for the dumbest shit, wolf-whistling at dudes outside of other bars, trying to grope Richie more than once, and finally boot-and-rallying in front of a 711, making Eddie want to vomit, too, and finally feeling himself sober up.

“How do you know Stan?” Eddie asked Bella.

“He and my brother Dave worked together at the movie theater,” she said. “We’ve hung out in similar circles since then. This is it.” Bella gestured at an apartment complex, and Eddie finally felt fucking relieved. “Thanks a lot. We probably would have been fine just the two of us if she wasn’t a disaster and I didn’t have to babysit.”

“No problem,” said Richie. “Just make sure you reiterate to Stan that he owes us.”

“Sure thing. Goodnight boys!”

“Goodnight, Richie!” the blonde girl called enthusiastically as Bella dragged her away.

Eddie looked up at Richie who was just shaking his head. “Why?”

“Long story,” Richie said, making Eddie frown. “I’ll tell you later, let’s get home so I can rinse my brain out of that nonsense.”

Richie actually did carry Eddie this time, hoisting him on his back and running like a madman to their apartment while Eddie screamed for him to slow the fuck down, his arm wrapped around Richie’s neck so tightly he wasn’t sure how Richie could breathe. Christ, he even ran up the stairs to their building entrance, and Eddie was thankful they lived on the 12th floor, knowing Richie’s stamina couldn’t handle it, so that he could finally settle down in the elevator.

“Jesus, Richie,” Eddie panted, sliding off of Richie’s back once the elevator doors closed. He didn’t have a minute to breathe before Richie was pressing him back against the wall, hands on Eddie’s waist while capturing him into a wet, sloppy kiss. All thoughts of that drunk girl escaped Eddie’s brain when Richie slid a hand down to cup his ass.

“Rich – there are – cameras – in here,” Eddie whispered against Richie’s lips between kisses. Richie only answered with a wide grin on his face once the elevator opened up again, pulling Eddie out and down the hallway to their apartment.

Once the bedroom door was shut, Richie lifted Eddie up and tossed him onto the bed, climbing on top of him to keep up the frenzied kisses, his hands sliding all over Eddie’s body before he dragged himself down to unbutton Eddie’s pants, planting more kisses along Eddie’s abdomen and sending little goosebumps all over Eddie’s skin. He could feel Richie’s lips curl up into a smile against his flesh.

“Getting a little soft there, too, sweet cheeks,” Richie said, squeezing Eddie’s sides, where he horribly realized he was getting little lovehandles.

“Cut it out,” Eddie replied, pushing Richie’s hand off him. “I haven’t had any time to exercise.”

Richie chuckled and finally pulled Eddie’s pants off. “You are still the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s why you need glasses, idiot.”

“Now you cut it out,” Richie laughed, crawling back up and nibbling on the soft part of Eddie’s neck. “You’re going to feel just how sexy I think you are.” Richie had already shimmied out of his own pants, and grinded his hips into Eddie’s, both of their dicks hard as rocks, and that fluttery feeling and heat that Eddie got in his body still after all these years with Richie just rolled through him like little waves with each thrust.

“I need you to fuck me so bad,” Eddie heard himself whine. He let out a small gasp as Richie flipped him over, crawling up onto the bed behind Eddie and pulling his hips up towards him so his ass was pressing against Richie’s cock now.

“Tell me how badly you want it,” he heard Richie whisper, feeling Richie’s hands caressing the skin along his inner thighs, tugging his boxers down while Eddie resigned to leaning his upper body down into the bed.

“God I want you to fuck me so hard I feel it in my throat,” Eddie panted. He heard Richie snort. “Richie, for the love of god can you not laugh every time – ”

“Sorry, sorry,” Richie laughed apologetically. “You’re just so cute when you’re flustered and horny.”

Eddie lifted his head and scowled. “I am not – ah!” he gasped again when Richie smacked his ass extra hard. “Ok, ok, I’m whatever you want me to be, just fuck me already, Christ.”

Eddie pulled his shirt off while Richie was putting a condom on and grabbed some lube, and Eddie pulled a pillow towards him for something softer to be grinded into besides just the bare mattress. And once Richie was inside him, Eddie was able to let his mind go numb to anything other than these feelings, the hot flesh of Richie’s hands on him, how perfectly he seemed to fit in Eddie, waves of pleasure rolling through his chest, pushing away any unpleasant thoughts that tried to make their way to the surface. But after a bit, Eddie was noticing how _loud_ Richie was; not that he minded the enthusiasm. They were usually pretty noisy, Richie particularly loved forcing Eddie to squeal and whine, but Richie sounded like he was trying to wake the dead. Eddie was about to question why, and that’s when Eddie heard it. A girl. _Moaning._ In the next room.

Eddie pressed his face down and groaned. This wasn’t how he wanted to meet the infamous Sam. And good god was Stan _pounding the wall?_

“Shit, I think she’s coming,” Richie panted, still fucking Eddie from behind.

“ _So_?” Eddie shrieked into his pillow. “Stop listening!” Richie kept moaning loudly. So did the girl, and shit, she was definitely coming by the sounds of it.

“Eddie. I could use a little more enthusiasm out of you; we can’t let the straights win.”

Eddie heard Stanley shout from the other room, “Guess which one of us can give their partner multiple orgasms, fucker?”

Oh my god, thought Eddie. He was living with a bunch of fucking children. “He’s got a point, you know,” Eddie muttered.

“CHALLENGE ACCEPTED, BITCH!”

“Wait, _what_?!” Eddie yelped, bracing himself as Richie gripped his hips tighter. He was getting so rough now, Eddie couldn’t really help the little whimpers coming out of him, and when Richie pressed Eddie forward, angling his hips downward and started hitting his prostate roughly Eddie felt the loud moans escaping his throat while that familiar feeling started rolling through him.

“ _Fuck fuck fuck,_ ” he whined, feeling himself shudder and come against Richie, still attempting to somewhat keep his volume down. But Richie was still going, trying to be louder than Sam coming again and Eddie felt how sensitive he was becoming. “Rich – ”

“Hold on.” Eddie did not expect to feel Richie lean forward, and wrap an arm around his waist, hoisting hit body up towards Richie’s chest. “Shimmy forward a bit – ”

“What?” Eddie said, still gasping for air. Richie helped manhandle him forward so Eddie could hold himself up on their headrest and Richie reached around to start stroking his cock. “Fuuuck,” Eddie hissed. He was still pretty hard, and when Richie started again he just let himself be as noisy as possible. He could hear Richie struggling, like he was trying to last long enough to get Eddie off again, his moaning becoming hoarse in Eddie’s ear. And Eddie thought… you know what, fuck it. He started pounding the wall back at Stan, his fist pounding in rhythm with Richie’s hips pressing into his own, and let himself moan loudly, and he couldn’t help but laughing a bit at the ridiculous of it all. He finally had to grab the headrest again, as Richie leaned him forward, gripping Eddie’s shoulder with his free hand to thrust into him more deeply.

Truthfully, he _hadn’t_ ever come twice like this, never this quickly in succession, so when it came rolling into him again, this time with Richie also stroking his cock and his body super sensitive, it was much shorter lived but so much more intense Eddie slammed his head forward into the wall and pressed it hard to keep him grounded, every one of his muscles twitching in unison all over his body, and he could feel Richie finally lose it himself as Richie’s moans hiked up in pitch and he squeezed Eddie tight.

They finally fell back, Eddie collapsing on top of Richie on the mattress. Both their chests were heaving, and Eddie could feel Richie shaking with light laughter under him. Sam sounded like she was coming again, but Eddie didn’t even give a shit right now.

“That was wild,” Richie panted. “I can’t say I thought I was going to be able to do that. Just don’t tell any of my fans or they’ll know I’ve been a fraud.”

“I don’t think I can walk,” Eddie chuckled, trying to adjust himself and slide over so he wasn’t fully on Richie. Richie took the opportunity to sit up to clean himself off, tossing the condom into the trash. He looked over and down at Eddie and grinned.

“God, you look like all my teenage wet dreams. You are _covered_.”

Eddie looked down; yeah, he was a mess. So were the sheets and pillow. “Towel?”

Richie tossed a shirt at Eddie, but it was one of Richie’s so it would do.

“Christ, maybe I should wear a condom when you’re fucking me like that again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Richie said, sticking his legs into some sweatpants. “I’m starving. You think you can get up to raid the fridge with me?”

Eddie lifted his arm feebly and let it fall back down dramatically at his side. “Nope.”

“C’mon you big baby.”

Richie helped Eddie get up, and they tossed the top sheet and pillow cover over to their laundry basket. Eddie got himself into some clothes and feebly shuffled into the kitchen, not really hungry, but not wanting to be left alone as the high from sex was starting to come down and Eddie felt his sobering mind wander to other things. Eddie sat at bar-counter that separated the kitchen area from the living room.

“I hope Patty got home OK,” Eddie was saying, resting his chin on the palm of his hand while Richie pulled various snacks out. To Eddie’s surprise, Richie started laughing. “What?”

Richie jabbed his thumb to the direction of the hall where the bedrooms were. “Did she _sound_ like she got home OK?”

Eddie tilted his head, utterly confused. “I said Patty, not Sam.”

“Dude, we brought Sam to her friend’s house.”

“Wait, what? That blonde girl? _That_ was Sam?”

“Yeah, didn’t you recognize Mac’s Pub? Stan left the party and walked in on her screwing some guy in the bathroom when he was going to take her home, so he came back.”

“And that was _Patty_?” Eddie stared incredulously down the hallway.

“Yeah, they hit it off I guess before we invited them to beer pong, and I guess they _really_ hit it off after we left and I promised Stan I’d walk Sam home safe so he didn’t feel like a douche leaving her drunk ass at a bar.”

Eddie grimaced. “I just heard my classmate fucking my roommate. How the hell am I supposed to study with her after this?”

Richie chuckled, throwing a Dorito in his mouth. “Yeah, you both heard each other getting dicked, that’s going to make Monday super awkward.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie grumbled hiding his face into the crook of his elbow. “I can’t see her again after this. This is your and Stan’s fault, you both _always_ do this weird competitive shit.”

“Hey, isn’t this what you asked for, trying to hook them up?”

Eddie lifted his head. “I – I thought she’d be the third date kind of girl! I wanted them to start seeing each other, not hook up!”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Richie said, shrugging. “You can want to fuck someone you just meet and still start a meaningful relationship. Don’t fret, Eddie my love. Give them time.”

“I’m still so weirded out,” Eddie admitted, laughing awkwardly. “I wouldn’t have gone along with that if I thought it was _her_ on the other side of the wall. She probably thinks I’m a freak now.”

“Everyone has freak qualities,” Richie reasoned, making his start on the Oreos. “Look at the girl she was with, she knew we were dating and still tried clinging on to me like a sloth.”

“You don’t give off enough gay vibe, I guess,” Eddie laughed. “I might as well be a giant rainbow flag. That or girls don’t want to flirt with someone the size of a hamster and a missing limb. I don’t think a girl has ever hit on me.”

Richie leaned over the counter where Eddie was sitting across from him and gave him a small peck on his nose. “It’s because you’re an intimidating little troll, they’re just scared of how powerful you are.”

“Ha!” Eddie burst sarcastically. “Bullshit.”

“Fine, maybe girls just have incredible gaydar.”

“Yours must be broken, then. Girls are always hanging all over you,” Eddie said, smirking.

Richie looked contemplative for a moment. “Well, I mean… maybe not entirely.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Erica _did_ have a point. Not everyone is 100% gay or straight.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, not really sure where Richie was going with this. “Yeah, whatever. So girls just think you’re… what, _flexible_?”

Richie’s eyebrows furrowed. “We have bi friends, Eddie.”

Eddie scoffed. “OK, sure, we have friends that haven’t committed to a side yet.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not like its easy being gay,” Eddie said. “We both know that. It’s probably just easier to say you’re bi. Plus, I’m pretty sure that Angela girl from your radio show is totally straight, but she has it in her head that guys think it’s hotter if she says she hooks up with girls. We got lucky, I guess.”

Richie opened his mouth and closed it several times, like he wasn’t sure what to say. Finally, he looked up at Eddie, a very serious look on his face. “What if I was bi?”

He wasn’t sure why, but Eddie felt heat in his chest, like a steaming ball of anger had lodged itself in there. He let out a shaky laugh. “Why would you say that? You’re with me.”

Richie sighed, seemingly frustrated. “Yes, Eddie, I know that. But… look, you find other people attractive, am I right?” Eddie stayed silent, like answering was some sort of trap. Richie continued on anyway. “OK, well I know for a fact you do. And, well, so do I. And… sometimes… those people are women.”

Eddie shook his head, as though he had misheard what Richie had said and was trying to shake something out of his ears to hear him better. “I’m sorry, what?”

Richie placed both hands on the counter, standing firmly in front of Eddie. “Look, Eddie you were my _first_ crush. You’re also my first and _last_ love, so I didn’t exactly get any time to explore how I felt about anyone else – ”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Eddie snapped. Suddenly, all good feelings he had felt this evening had completely dissipated from his memory. All of those hilarious interactions Richie had had between flirty girls from this night, and any other night, they weren’t cute and funny anymore; suddenly, they felt dangerous… and Eddie was getting pissed.

“I don’t mean I want to be with anyone else!” Richie said defensively. “I just mean, like… now that I’ve been able to talk to more people I’m just understanding things about myself I didn’t realize before. I thought I was just a confused kid because I liked you and was trying to fight being gay, but… maybe instead of confused, I just didn’t understand that it was possible to be attracted to guys _and_ girls.”

“So, what? Now that you’re all enlightened now, you want to fuck girls?”

“Arrrrgh,” Richie groaned, pressing his fists up into his forehead. “I don’t want to fuck anyone else, Eddie! That’s not what I’m saying!”

“So what are you saying?” Eddie said harshly. “Because, what the fuck is the point of you telling me you’ve secretly liked girls and all the attention you get from them?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Richie yelled, throwing a fist up like he was going to slam it down into the counter, but composed himself quickly, taking a deep breath. “I don’t _like_ girls being all over me, that’s not – that’s not even what happens – ”

“You don’t exactly put up a fight about it,” Eddie hissed at him. “You just let them crawl all over you, like it’s funny!”

“Since _when_?” Richie snapped back. “What, you think I encourage people to flirt with me? Jesus, Eddie, this has nothing to do with what anyone else thinks about me.”

“So, when are you going to realize you’re sick of not being able to motorboat some girls tits and tell me to fuck off? I mean, it’s not like I’m offering you anything you don’t have yourself when there’ a whole group of people out there with boobs to grab and vaginas to fuck! Shit, you realize now every single fucking _joke_ you’ve made about women is still impeded into my brain? But now they’re not jokes anymore, Richie, because apparently you fucking meant all of them.”

“Oh my god,” Richie groaned, pressing the palms of his hand into his face, his glasses pushing harshly into his skin. “Eddie, for fucks sake. Of course they were fucking jokes! I want to be with _you,_ and only with you!”

“Well, apparently you want to be with girls, too – ”

“No, I don’t!” Richie shouted, making Eddie flinch. “I fucking don’t, Eds! Why don’t you understand what I’m saying? Jesus, I thought of all people, you would be the last person to judge me about this! I’m trying to open up to you about these feelings I thought made me a fucking freak, and you’re sitting there on your fucking high horse judging me! Christ, what is wrong with you, you sound like your fucking mother!”

Richie knew he fucked up the second the words left his mouth, but he was too late. His face dropped immediately, his voice softening. “Eddie, I didn’t mean that – ”

“Right. I’m going to bed,” Eddie said suddenly. Eddie was shocked at how calm his voice was, and it sounded like it was coming from someone else entirely. The hot ball of anger in his chest had burst and was dripping like wax in his insides, and he could feel his legs and arm shaking as he hopped off the stool and started walking away.

“Eddie, I’m sorry, wait a minute – ”

“I said I’m going to bed,” Eddie repeated tightly, but his voice was shaking slightly. He shoved the bedroom door open, and threw it behind him, but it didn’t slam behind him, as he heard it bump into Richie as he followed Eddie into the room. Eddie threw himself into bed, annoyed that he couldn’t hide his face while facing away from Richie on this side of the room, so he pulled the covers over his head.

“Eddie, stop hiding and talk to me.”

“Goodnight, Richie,” Eddie replied. He felt Richie’s weight on the bed and just the proximity was keeping Eddie’s rage fueled.

“Eds, I’m sorry,” he heard Richie say behind him, his voice much softer. “I was angry and I said something really awful. I know you’re not anything like her, I just said it to hurt your feelings, because you were hurting mine, which was really immature. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Please leave me alone,” Eddie croaked. Fuck, he was starting to cry now. He was crying like a fucking baby. He felt Richie’s hand press gently on his side, but it sent an electric shock through Eddie, and he jumped up out of the bed immediately like he had just been defibrillated. “I can’t deal with this right now,” he said, stumbling up and out of the room. “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

“Eds,” Richie tried again, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, but Eddie cut him off.

“Please, Richie!” he cried, looking down at the floor and avoiding Richie’s eye. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. All I can think about now is every stupid thing you’ve ever said about girls, and how you say it’s just because you can’t be “out” to the general public, but apparently there’s some truth to it! And I listen to you Richie, I’m up all night every night listening to you telling these stupid jokes and all they’re doing is hurting me now because now I can’t get the imagery out of my fucking head and thinking about the underlying truth to all of it.” He took in a shaky, sobbing breath as he opened the door. “Just leave me alone right now.”

Eddie couldn’t bring himself to look back up at Richie as he slammed the door behind him. He pulled out a bottle from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom across from their room before stomping his way back towards the kitchen. He whipped open the cabinet door where they kept their liquor, and Eddie grabbed a bottle of Richie’s rum, not bothering to grab a chaser or anything to mix it with. Eddie opened the pill bottle, popping a pill in his mouth and pausing before tossing a second in, and washing it down with some of the rum, letting the burning sensation down his throat overwhelm his senses so he had something else to focus on.

“That’s probably not a good idea, Eddie.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Eddie snapped, turning to face the voice, but no one was there. Because, why would he be? Eddie wasn’t sure how it worked, still, these visits he had had from his father’s ghost haunting him at night. They were usually welcome and comforting, but as Eddie had been slipping downhill this last year, he saw and felt his dad’s presence less and less. He wasn’t sure if he was angrier that his dad wasn’t here now, or angrier that he had showed up now when Eddie wanted him to mind his fucking business. “Great fucking timing you have!” Eddie shouted into the empty apartment space. “You don’t show up for months and then interject your stupid opinion when I don’t want you here! Well, stay gone! I don’t need anyone’s help right now!”

No one answered. Eddie wondered if he had really heard anything at all, if he was still feeling his drinking from earlier or if his rage had just manifested something from his subconscious. He drank more of the rum before shoving it back into the cabinet, dragging himself into the living room to throw himself on the couch. The light in the hall was still on, because deep down Eddie knew he was being a bit childish, as he usually was in fights. They rarely fought so seriously, but when they did, they had a system. He knew Richie would never leave him alone after a fight like this and left the light on so Richie could make his way safely to the living room, wrap Eddie up in a blanket and walk him back to bed to hold onto each other, even if they agreed to not speak about their fight until the morning, when they’d discuss it more maturely and apologize to each other. Eddie sighed, feeling sleep start to overwhelm him as he stared out at the hallway, waiting to hear the door creak open as his eyelids got heavier.

Richie never came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)  
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	3. To be ill adjusted to a deranged world is not a breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is having a good week! Another chapter commences!
> 
> TW: mild violence, homophobic language, inappropriate drug use

Eddie finally opened his tired eyes, blinking a few times as he adjusted to the sunlight breaking through the shades. It took him a moment to realize with a pang in his heart that a blanket had been draped over him, and he knew Richie had probably left, remembering Richie had some sort of charity event in Central Park for the radio station. Eddie was going to go with him, but it seemed Richie was afraid to wake him. The events of last night came to Eddie in a rush, and he felt waves of anger and guilt colliding together. He rolled onto his back to stretch out before pushing himself up off the couch, reaching out for a little post-it stuck to the coffee table.

_I love you_

_I’m sorry_

_Be home soon as I can_

_Please be safe -R_

Eddie stared at that last sentence for a good minute contemplating exactly what Richie meant. Deep down he knew exactly what Richie had meant and decided he’d rather now dwell on it, turning towards the kitchen where he saw Patty pouring some sugar into a coffee mug. She must have sensed him, because just then she looked up, smiling as their gazes met.

“Good morning,” she said brightly before blowing on her coffee. “Want a cup?”

“Yes, please,” Eddie grumbled, walking over to his usual barstool. “I’ll take it black.”

Patty poured him a cup, and Eddie’s heart sank a little further when he saw she had picked one of Richie’s mugs; it was a Christmas gift from Eddie years ago, picturing Darth Vader holding his arms out saying ‘I love you Sith much!’ When Patty placed it in front of him, he couldn’t bring himself to grab the mug just yet.

“You seemed to have gotten along with my roommate quite well,” Eddie finally said. Patty choked a little bit on her coffee before blushing nearly crimson.

“Yeaaaaah,” she said sheepishly. “Last night was, uh… interesting. Not that I’m Virgin Mary or anything, but I’ve never just gone home with a guy like that before.”

“It’s not a common occurrence with Stan, either; trust me.”

“Are Richie and Stan always so, uh…?”

“Yes,” Eddie said immediately. “I don’t know what their deal is. They’ve been best friends since they were, like, 3 years old, and they’ve treated everything like a competition for nearly two decades.”

“Well, you sounded like you were enjoying yourself at least,” Patty said, her cheeks turning pink again.

“Can we agree to never talk about it again?” Eddie chuckled awkwardly. “At least until next time it happens.”

“Next time,” Patty mused, smiling slightly. “Yeah.”

“I’m assuming there’s a next time with you and Stan?” Eddie asked hopefully.

“There very well might be,” she said, smirking. But then her smile faded as she slowly set her coffee down on the counter. “You and Richie OK?”

“Oh, uh,” Eddie started, feeling flushed.

“Sorry,” Patty said immediately. “Hearing each other having sex after a week of knowing each other shouldn’t earn me the privilege of knowing your business.”

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle despite his nerves feeling like they were on fire with worry. “It’s OK. I hope we didn’t, like, disturb your night with Stan or anything.”

“Heh, no. Don’t worry.”

Eddie tried to distract himself with small talk with Patty before Stan came out into the living space. Eddie looked up and saw Stan’s cheeks blush a little at the sight of him. He looked away pointedly when Stan walked into the kitchen and offered Patty a small kiss, but was secretly very proud of his matchmaker skills. The two of them had apparently decided to go for a walk uptown a bit to Washington Square Park and they invited Eddie along. Eddie felt intrusive, but when they offered the second time he agreed to tag along, because even though he still felt exhausted, he wasn’t aching to be alone with his thoughts again. Just before leaving, Patty ran to the bathroom, and Stan leaned onto Eddie with a deep sigh, and Eddie could practically see little hearts floating above his head.

“Eddie, I think I’m in love.”

And Eddie was happy for Stan and happy for this girl Patty who he had now only known for 6 days, but it wasn’t enough to calm the hot, sickly feeling Eddie had in the pit of his chest. He felt a lump in his throat and the threat of bile trying to escape him as he tried to push away the thoughts of his angry words at Richie last night and what Richie had said back. Patty was admiring the fountain, Stan admiring her fondly with his arm around her shoulders, and Eddie was trying to focus on the sprinkling of cold water on his face, blowing at him in the cool breeze ripping through the park and across the fountain. He didn’t realize Stan was trying to talk to him until Stan’s fingers were snapping in his face.

“You good there, Eddie?”

“Wha – no, yeah, sorry,” Eddie stammered quickly, shoving his hands into the pocket of his – well, Richie’s – hoodie. “Uh, weird question… but, what do you two think of people that say they’re bisexual?”

Patty shrugged before saying anything, but Stanley rolled his eyes and spoke first. “Is that what you two were fighting about last night? Did Richie tell you?”

 _Did Richie tell you?_ Eddie frowned up at Stan. “He told you?” It shouldn’t surprise him. Richie and Stan told each other everything, he knew that. But Richie also told Eddie everything, and for the first time since they were in high school Richie had felt too scared to entrust Eddie in one of his secrets before Stanley. He wasn’t sure if it made him feel angrier at Richie or himself.

“I mean, I suspected he felt that way for a while,” Stan explained. “But he’s been so into you there wasn’t really any reason for him to think about it I guess.”

Eddie felt a surge of panic, his breath hitching in his throat before becoming uneven. “But now there is a reason? Did – is he – does he want – ”

“Eddie, Eddie! Calm down!” Stan said, removing his arm from Patty and gripping Eddie tight on the shoulder. “That’s not what I’m saying, OK? Richie is still utterly and hopelessly in love with and obsessed with you.”

“Then why is he suddenly telling me he wants to be with a woman?” Eddie snapped at Stan. “What kind of bomb is that to drop on someone?”

“He said that specifically?”

“Well he – he said… I mean, why else would he be thinking about – ”

“He’s not thinking about anything, Eddie. You’re using your math brain again.”

“Using my what?” Eddie scoffed.

“Not everything has to be one way or another. Not everything is concrete. Some shit is different than the norm, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, feeling like Stan was reciting one of his OCD therapy mantras, but Stan frowned deeper.

“Do you remember that musical we saw when Richie’s parents came to visit?”

“Yeah?”

“Ok, well do you remember that actor you and Richie ran into from the play after? The one you were drooling over, played the landlord?”

“Taye Diggs,” Eddie said immediately before feeling himself blush. “I wasn’t _drooling_ over him.”

“But you found him attractive, right?”

“Well, yes.”

“So, what, are you going to start wanting to date black guys now?”

“What – no, why would – that’s not – ”

“I swear to god, if you say that’s not the same thing,” Stan said threateningly, pointing his index finger in Eddie’s face. “Do you not see how much of a hypocrite you’re being?”

“Stan,” Patty said softly, making them both startle; Eddie had almost forgotten about her for a moment. “Maybe take it easy on him. I’m sure it’s a weird adjustment for Eddie. Maybe he just needs to talk to Richie a little bit more to ease himself.”

“Damn right he needs to talk to Richie,” Stan said firmly, glaring at Eddie. “There isn’t anything on this godforsaken planet Richie wouldn’t do for Eddie, and Eddie’s having a fit because ‘ _Oh no, Richie thinks people that don’t look like me are attractive!’_ ”

“OK, I get it!” Eddie snapped at him. “I’m being an asshole!”

“No, I don’t think you do,” Stan continued. “When Richie isn’t with you, all he fucking does is talk about you, and when he’s not talking about you he’s thinking about you and he’s worried sick! You’ve been a dissolving mess for over a year now. You’re almost as bad as you were in Bellevue – ”

“ _Stan!_ ” Eddie growled through gritted teeth, his eyes darting quickly to Patty, but Stan kept going.

“ – and god knows when he’ll ever get a tour contract again after blowing this off – ”

“Stop, stop, stop!” Eddie shouted, grabbing Stan’s shoulder tightly, causing a few nearby people to retreat to a distance from them. “What tour contract? What are you talking about?”

For a brief moment, Stan looked scared, his eyes going wide as he looked down at Eddie, before he turned to Patty, speaking very softly. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Yup,” Patty squeaked immediately. “I’ll be – I’ll be by the bubble wand guy…”

Stan watched her awkwardly walk away, trying to distract herself somewhere else in the park, while Eddie stared up at him intently. Stan finally relaxed a little, reaching up to gently pry Eddie’s hand off of him, guiding it back down to Eddie’s side.

“Richie’s new agent at the station surprised him with a contract for him to go on a bus tour with some of the other comedians at the club,” Stan explained. “They were just going to be like rotating openers for some big acts across the East Coast, like Seinfeld and shit.”

“He… he never said anything to me,” Eddie whispered, more to himself. This would be amazing, it was everything Richie had been hoping for, a jumpstart to a real career. “He should go! When do they leave?”

Stan sighed. “They left about 3 weeks ago.”

Eddie’s heart sank into a pit of acidic guilt in his chest. “Why?” he asked softly, feeling his eyes sting. “Why didn’t he go?”

Stan’s anger was gone, his expression now soft and apologetic. “He didn’t want to leave you alone, Eddie. Maybe, if it were like it was 2 or 3 years ago, but now… he’s afraid you’re going to have a meltdown again.”

“I’m not sick,” Eddie croaked defensively, and god he was really, _really_ trying not to think about last year. “That was a mistake. I’m fine now. I was just angry last night. I’m better.”

“Are you?” Stan asked earnestly. “Because I gotta tell ya, Eds… I’m getting a little scared. We both are. I know you might’ve gotten better initially, but you’re slipping again. I can hear you up all night when Richie is gone, you’re talking to yourself and pacing around, you’re hardly eating… You’re not yourself. You get so down when Richie isn’t around. You don’t even seem sad, you seem… like… empty.”

Empty. That’s exactly how Eddie could describe what he had been feeling. Even the short bursts he had of happiness felt short-lived after being erupted by the smallest things that set Eddie off, like his brain was planted with these little emotional landmines waiting to explode and dissolve into the vast nothingness. It was a fine line between numbness and panic. Now it seemed that he had failed at his all-for-show optimism and cheer. Richie and Stan had seemed to buy it and nothing seemed out of the ordinary from Eddie’s perspective, but maybe that was just the thing. Normalcy for normalcy’s sake; their own performance act for Eddie to feel like things were OK.

“He should’ve gone. He can’t hold himself back for me like that. Why didn’t you make him go?” Eddie added angrily at Stan, his emotions spiking up again.

“OK, first of all, no one can make Richie Tozier do anything he doesn’t want to,” Stan argued back, pushing Eddie back gently to an arm’s distance, as he was starting to get in Stan’s face. “Secondly, I’d frankly be afraid of what would happen if you were left in the apartment by yourself for days at a time.”

“You’re there half the time,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes, but then Eddie felt like he had just been hit in the chest and the stinging in his eyes came back stronger. “Oh my god. That’s why you never left…”

Stan straightened up, biting his lip. “What… what do you mean?”

Eddie couldn’t look at Stan now, tears starting to spill down his cheeks and his lips trembling as he spoke. “You haven’t moved out because you and Richie don’t want to leave me alone. You kept making all those excuses to your dad and uncle for all those apartments you turned down, but you did it so you could babysit me. You both think I’m too fucking crazy to be left alone.”

“Eddie, you’re not crazy,” Stan said gently. Eddie caught him in his peripherals looking back at where Patty probably was. “But you should probably bring Richie into your next appointment with Dr. Schaffer. Because it doesn’t seem like you’re getting your symptoms across to him right – ”

“I’m gonna head home,” Eddie interrupted, wiping his face with his sleeve, feeling a surge of panic and not wanting to hear anymore.

“Wait,” said Stan. “Let me tell Patty – ”

“You guys enjoy the park,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “I can walk myself home. I’m fine. Richie will be home soon.”

He wasn’t entirely sure if Stan called after him again; it felt like his ears were clogged, likely from him trying his best not to cry and look like a pathetic baby. Eddie was suddenly very tired again, wanting to go back and crawl into the bed he deprived himself of last night, try to get lost in Richie’s scent in the sheets. But now he was afraid he wouldn’t have anything to distract him. Even if he decided to listen to Richie’s event over the radio, he couldn’t stand to hear Richie making any kind of sexual suggestive jokes right now. And Eddie knew he was being stupid, he was being childish and jealous and possessive, but he didn’t know how to calm himself down. He knew he already had a cup, but he stopped into a coffee shop anyway to get himself another drink, hoping to waste some time and his mind by at least talking to the barista and start people watching outside. He rolled up the sleeve to Richie’s hoodie to tie it up, as it usually made interactions less awkward when he was out, rather than anyone reach out for the unknowingly empty sleeve flopping around.

Unfortunately, it was a Saturday and pretty busy, all of the outside seats taken, so Eddie wandered a bit down the sidewalk and leaned back against the old bricks of the building to sip his coffee. There were a lot of people walking their dogs around today and Eddie spotted an energetic golden retriever across the street. It made him think about Bill and Mike. They had adopted their retriever, Angel, about midway through college and it caused a bit of a war between the two of them when the time came to separate. Bill got himself an apartment in the city of LA, and Mike moved up north after graduation to get some more scenery. Eventually Bill reluctantly let Angel go, knowing Mike would be taking her on daily runs down the beach. Eddie smiled softly thinking of them, wondering how they were enjoying their Saturday in California and thought he should call them soon, as well as Beverly and Ben in Chicago, where he swore he’d never go to again after eating the pizza. It would probably make him feel better to hear from any of them, maybe even listen to Bill tell him about the book he’s working on and hope that he fixed the ending. Eddie was brought back to life when he felt something drop in his cup as two men passed him by.

“What the hell?” Eddie said loudly, tilting his cup back to look at what had plopped down to the bottom. “Dude, is this a fucking quarter?”

One of the guys turned around, shrugging. “It’s all I got, dude. Maybe see if they’re hiring instead of panhandling.”

Before he realized what the fuck he was doing, he tossed the remainder of his coffee at the guy.

“Yo, what the fuck!” he shouted angrily at Eddie.

“I’m not homeless, asshole!” Eddie yelled back at him, because seriously, he was just fucking standing there.

“Get your handicapped ass off the sidewalk then, fucker!”

Eddie felt his face flare up with heat. “Why don’t you and your boyfriend go fuck yourselves?”

That seemed to do it. The guy turned around and stomped at Eddie so quickly he didn’t have any time to react before the guy shoved him up against the wall, dropping his coffee cup and its remaining liquid on the ground.

“Do we look like a couple of faggots to you?” Quarter-Guy breathed in his face.

“You’re getting awfully handsy if you’re not,” Eddie retorted, despite feeling like he couldn’t breathe, the guys arm pressing into his neck.

“Keep that shit up, you little midget. I dare you.”

“Dude, let the little queer go, he’s probably baiting you.”

Eddie kept his eyes locked on his, like some kind of aggressive staring contest, until the guy finally stepped back. Eddie didn’t realize the guy had been holding him up off the ground until he felt his heels drop at his release.

“Assholes,” Eddie muttered as be bent down to pick up the cup. He could’ve sworn the guy had walked away before he spoke, but the second he stood up he felt a wallop on the side of his head and Eddie fell hard onto the ground. He had barely registered what happened before the guy was shouting above him.

“You better keep your fucking mouth shut, faggot!” He sent another blow into Eddie’s stomach, forcing him groan and fold up into himself on the ground. In the back of his mind he thought about how disgusting the sidewalk was, how many people had spit on the ground and how many shoes had tracked over where Eddie was lying now. He tried to focus on his breathing before opening his eyes and seeing that the two jerks were no longer there. He sighed with relief before pushing himself back up, brushing away a couple of people who asked him if he needed help. The left side of his head was pounding, feeling swollen and wet with what was definitely blood where it felt like a ring had hooked into Eddie’s skin. It was probably a good time to head back to the apartment, Eddie taking one last glance in the direction that the two guys went. But that was the nice thing about New York City; people were assholes everywhere, but here he never ran into the same assholes twice.

For a few minutes, Eddie paced around the living room, looking around for the remote to at least drown out the silence with Saturday morning cartoons. He had cleaned up his face, now having a new little cut perpendicular to the scar Eddie already had over his eyebrow and a shiny new bruise. Stan and Richie were going to love that. _Please be safe._

Eddie was just about to sit on the sofa when he saw his pill bottle on the counter still across into the kitchen where he left it last night. He sauntered over, remembering how easily he was able to fall asleep last night, despite how angry and panicky he was, taking two pills just as he had done the night before, washing it down with some rum like he had already created a little ritual for his sleep. It seemed to be working pretty well, because he only had to ruminate for about 5 minutes when his breathing slowed down and his eyelids got heavy, tucking himself into a pillow and letting himself drift off.

Honestly, he could’ve sworn he hadn’t even fallen asleep had he not been suddenly startled awake by someone shouting from the kitchen a couple hours later.

“Stop, what the hell are you doing!”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Richie, you’re not supposed to snap the spaghetti – ”

“It won’t fit in the pot! Get the fuck out of here, I know how to cook goddamn pasta, Stanley.”

Eddie sighed softly into the couch listening to his roommates bicker. His head was pounding furiously as he sat up. He almost forgot what had happened until he saw dried blood on the pillow.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered.

Stan and Richie immediately stopped arguing at the sound of Eddie’s voice and Richie popped into view with a bright smile on his face.

“Eds!” Well, the smile lasted about a second after Richie saw him before Richie’s face dropped and he ran into the living room. “ _Eds!_ What the hell did you do?”

“No, its fine Richie, I’ll make dinner myself I guess.”

“Stan, shut the fuck up,” Richie snapped, kneeling in front of Eddie. Eddie’s heart hurt with both joy and shame seeming him. “Eddie, what happened to you?”

Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but his body produced a sob, because _of course_ he was crying, because his body had forgotten how to respond to things normally without either yelling at someone or blubbering. And it didn’t help that Richie’s first instinct was to wrap Eddie up in his long arms and squeeze him tight like he’d never let him go, which just made Eddie sob more, breathing “ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry,_ ” over and over into Richie’s chest. He felt Richie’s arm move up to place his hand gently on Eddie’s face, pulling him away to look down at his sniffling, snot-covered face.

“Stop, I’m so gross – ”

“And you’re blowing your nose on me isn’t?” Richie teased, but still lifting his other arm to wipe Eddie’s nose with his sleeve. “Now, who cuffed your mug, gorgeous?”

“Stooop,” Eddie whined again, trying to hide his disgusting cry face. “It was some asshole at the coffee shop. He – I mean, I threw my coffee at him.”

“And why did we do that?”

“hethouiwahomless…”

“Say that again?”

“He thought I was homeless!” Eddie blurted. And bless him, Richie really did try _not_ to laugh for a whole 5 seconds, pursing his lips, his eyes watering before bursting into hysterics at Eddie’s scowling face. “I’m so glad you’re amused, Rich, because I didn’t find it funny.”

“Oh my god, Eds,” Richie managed to choke out, gripping Eddie’s shoulders firmly. “That’s hysterical. You’re wearing _my_ clothes, of course you look homeless; I’m a fucking bum! That hoodie has holes from god knows what and you're swimming in it. But seriously, don’t be messing with people like that when you’re by yourself, sweetheart. I mean, I know you can take care of yourself, but what if he had a knife or something? Didn’t I tell you to be safe?”

Eddie sighed, leaning forward to rest his head on Richie’s chest and reeling back again when he leaned into his own wet bodily fluids left on Richie’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK, Eds,” Richie replied softly, brushing his thumb across Eddie’s cheek. “Just try to come home with your remaining limbs; I’m quite fond of them.”

“I mean it, Rich,” Eddie said, looking up at Richie through his lashes. “I’m so sorry I acted that way last night. I wasn’t listening to you and I got – I don’t know… jealous.”

Richie’s hand on the side of his face gripped him more firmly, pulling him closer. “Edward Kaspbrak, you are the dumbest smart person I’ve ever met. You are the most stubborn, sexiest, high-strung, most beautiful doe-eyed feral human being I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“That’s a lot of words,” Eddie mumbled, his face half-smushed against Richie’s palm pressing into it.

“Eddie. You are not just the most perfect boy I’ve ever met; you’re the most perfect person. Like… when I look at people, I don’t think I see guys and girls the way other people do. I just see a bunch of people that look different, and some of them are nice to look at, yeah. But you, Eds…” He sighed, lifting his other and to Eddie’s face. “You make them all seem like a blur. You’re like – like my sun. Everything revolves around you, and you blind me to anything else around you.”

“That is so… gay,” Eddie chuckled, but he couldn’t help feeling his heart strings pull staring up at Richie’s eyes. They were almost black, a stark contract to Eddie’s lighter brown, but they shined with such warmth and sincerity every time he looked at Eddie.

“I’m sorry I sprung that up on you,” Richie said, at last smiling again. “But you’re the love of my life, Eds. There’s no one else but you.”

“I love you, too Rich. So much.”

Richie closed the gap between them, and Eddie felt his heart somersault in his chest at the touch of Richie’s lips to his. His hand immediately found Richie’s collar, leaning back and pulling Richie down with him onto the couch until he felt Richie on every part of his body –

“YO!”

“ _Ah!_ ” Richie gasped as Eddie accidentally bit his lip in shock.

“Can you two make up without degrading the couch _right in front of me?_ ” Stan shouted from the kitchen, shaking his head before turning back to the stove. “God, I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

Richie sighed, wiping his bloody lip and looking back down at Eddie. “I should probably help him before he ruins my sauce and we end up eating with Ragu.”

Eddie kept his grip on Richie’s collar tight. “Continue this later?” he whispered.

Richie grinned ear to ear before placing a small kiss on Eddie’s nose. “Of course, my love.”

Richie got up and stretched, nearly knocking Eddie’s pill bottle of the coffee table, quickly catching it and handing it back to Eddie. Eddie reached out for it; Richie’s slight hesitation and the furrow in his brow before letting Eddie take it didn’t go unnoticed. “Put those away somewhere before you lose them.”

Eddie just smiled up at him, catching Richie’s eyes linger on the bottle another second longer before he went back into the kitchen to save his tomato sauce from Stan. Eddie clutched the bottle tightly, nausea slowly creeping into him. He needed to talk to Richie. They needed to talk about Richie turning down the tour. They needed to talk about Stan staying here. He needed to try to convince Richie that he was fine. Just fine. But for now, he could deal with some distractions, pocketing the little bottle and following Richie into the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there guys, cause things will get worse before things get better.
> 
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)
> 
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	4. A sick thought can devour the body’s flesh more than a fever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have a wonder weekend and Easter if you're celebrating. Please be safe!
> 
> TW: inappropriate drug use, homophobia and homophobic language, brief description of violence, emotional child abuse, mention of suicide

Sunday would be a much better day. They’d sleep in together with their bodies tangled lightly under the covers, planting gentle kisses into each other while lazily touching. Richie would make Eddie breakfast before they fooled around on the couch and decided which park they wanted to walk to in the afternoon. They’d remark about the leaves changing and make plans to go up north soon to pick apples and pumpkins in Westchester and end their day listening to Stan talk about his own afternoon with Patty.

But that was asking too much, Eddie supposed, when he woke up in bed alone.

His heart ached a little as he stretched over to Richie’s side of the bed, but he perked up as he turned his head, listening intently and hearing the shower across the hall from their bedroom. Eddie climbed out of the bed, quietly entering the bathroom (after quickly making sure Stan was, in fact, in his room and not the one showering), and stripping his clothes off as silently as he could. The second he pulled the shower curtain, something hard hit him in the face.

“Fuck! Eds, you OK?”

“Yup,” Eddie groaned, rubbing his already-bruised eyebrow and glancing down at the shampoo bottle Richie chucked at him.

“I thought you were a burglar,” Richie said apologetically as Eddie climbed into the shower, stepping forward to help him in before picking the bottle up off the bottom tile.

“You caught me,” Eddie teased, reaching his hand down between Richie’s legs. “I came to take your cock and make it mine.”

Richie gently brushed Eddie’s hand away, and he looked up to see Richie looking – well, fucking sad. What the fuck.

“You OK?” Eddie asked softly as Richie backed away to rinse his hair out.

“I’m fine, Eds,” Richie shrugged. “Just, you know, trying to shower. Was trying to think.”

“Uh huh.” Maybe he could try something else. He stood awkwardly until Richie turned around to put the shampoo back, then stepped forward to wrap his arm around Richie’s waist. “You remember our first blow jobs in your parents’ shower?”

“Yeah,” Richie said, his tone still somber, slipping out of Eddie’s grip. “I was trying to distract you from the night before.”

“I could use a distraction now.”

Richie sighed, finally looking down and directly into Eddie’s eyes. “That’s probably not a good idea, sweetheart.” He reached back to turn the water off and Eddie felt like he had just punched him in the chest.

“W-Why?”

Richie reached up to cup Eddie’s face with both hands, looking serious. “I don’t think we should be avoiding talking about things, Eds. You keep pushing things down and away and then you either break down or blow up at me over everything. I feel like I keep breaking your heart and trying to put you back together again.”

Eddie swallowed, feeling his throat tightening up. “You’re not. It’s not everything, Richie I’m – ”

“Eds, don’t,” Richie groaned, closing his eyes tight. “Don’t fucking say you’re fine.” He opened them again, stroking Eddie’s cheeks with his thumbs. “Eddie, I’m going to ask you something. Please, _please_ don’t be upset when I ask, OK?”

“OK,” Eddie replied, feeling his heartbeat quicken in his chest.

Richie took a deep breath. “Eddie, are you taking your medicine?”

_“Eddie, are you taking your medicine?”_

_The question struck him abruptly, causing Eddie to jump a little in his seat. His mother used to ask this question often, and it always annoyed him because he_ was _taking his pills, just as she always asked. But now, he hadn’t been. Lately he had been throwing the pills in his mouth in front of his mother at meals, letting them sit in his cheeks before he spit them out into the toilet to flush, sometimes needing to swallow them completely and force himself to vomit them up if he needed to._

_“Of course I’m taking them, mom.”_

_He jumped again as his mother came around from behind him, smacking a small pet fishing net onto the table and disposing it of its contents. Eddie stared at the wet, broken, partially dissolved pills displayed before him on the kitchen table, his chest constricting tightly, palms starting to sweat._

_“Then_ why _, Eddie, did these float up in the bathroom toilet after it got clogged._ ”

_“Ma – ” Eddie croaked, feeling the words catch in his throat. What was he supposed to say? No excuse came to him and his body tightened as his mother suddenly gripped the back of his neck harshly. “Ow, mom – !”_

_“This is the second time you’ve deliberately disobeyed me in 2 weeks, Edward. First the dance, now this. You_ need _your medicine, Eddie. They help you. You’re going to take it.”_

_“I’m sorry, I won’t lie again, I promise!” Eddie spit out. “I’ll take my pills. I’ll take them every day, I just – I just got sick this morning.” He went to grab for his bottles, but she squeezed his neck harder, thrusting his head forward a bit._

_“You’re not going to waste these pills, Eddie! You can’t miss any doses or run out of your medicine before they’re due.”_

_Eddie grimaced down at the partially digested pills from the toilet, feeling his stomach turning. “I can’t take these, they’re disgusting.”His voice sounded so small and meek._

_Eddie winced when she smacked the back of his head before grabbing him tightly again, his eyes watering as her nails dug into his skin. “Do not make me tell you a second time. You need to take your medicine, Eddie.”_

_And he fucking did. Eventually, he’d learn to cheek them until he got to school or use sleight of hand to slip them down his sleeve while pretending to slip them in his mouth, but at that moment he swallowed the disgusting pills she fished out from the toilet, gagging and blinking away tears of embarrassment, knowing she was making sure he understood who was in control, despite the boiling rage festering under his skin. He wasn’t allowed to have a choice._

“Eddie, are you taking your medicine?”

The rage was back like an awakened dragon and Eddie pushed Richie back forcefully so he’d let go of his face.

“Yes, I’m taking my medicine, _mother_ ,” he spat. The look on Richie’s face should’ve broken his heart, but he was too mad.

“Eddie, I’m not – ”

“No, Rich, I get it,” Eddie continued, ripping the shower curtain back violently and stepping out pull his pants back on. “I need to be a good, obedient boy and take my pills just like the doctor says.”

“Eddie,” Richie said gently, stumbling out behind him, quickly wrapping a towel around his waist. “This isn’t the same thing as your placebos or the other stuff your mom was giving you, you know that.”

Eddie didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out his pill bottle for the medicine cabinet where he stashed it the night before, pouring the last two pills into his palm, turning so he could look Richie in the eye as he dry-swallowed them, a scowl etched on his face. Richie sighed and frowned deeper.

“Why are you out already?”

“I’m – I’m seeing him tomorrow,” Eddie stammered. “I’ll take the medicine first thing after the appointment.”

“What about your other bottle?”

“In my backpack. I take it with lunch.”

A moment of silence passed as they stared at each other.

“Show me.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Eddie cried, literally stomping his foot in a tantrum. “Why are you treating me like a fucking child?”

Even as upset as he was, Eddie understood the irony of how he was acting when he said it, but he didn’t want to let up. He was too angry, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he was angrier at himself or Richie right now.

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, Eds,” Richie continued, looking at him sadly. “I don’t want to see you go to a hospital again. That was one of the scariest moments of my life; that’s saying a _lot_ considering what we’ve been through. It’s been so hard taking care of you when I don’t know what’s going on in your head.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a chore,” Eddie bit without hesitation.

Richie didn’t draw back, though. He stepped forward and gently placed his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, looking directly at him with deep concern.

“You’re not a chore. That’s not what I’m saying. I just mean I’m trying my best not to fuck up and make things worse. Like the other night, I know I upset you by bringing all that stuff up. Then you went and picked a fight with someone…”

“Like you’ve never done that!” Eddie retorted, throwing his arm up in exasperation.

“I’ve defended myself or tried to stop someone from hurting you. That’s not the same thing.” He reached up to cup Eddie’s face, gently stroking where he had been punched yesterday. Eddie leaned back, pressing his behind on the sink counter in a half-sitting position, but didn’t brush Richie off of him.

“What do you want me to do, Rich? What can I do to show you I’m trying?”

“Just talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. Don’t make me rely on guessing, please.”

Eddie took a deep breath. “Well… I’ve been having a hard time sleeping. Apparently I’ve been keeping Stan up.”

Richie searched Eddie’s face, waiting patiently for Eddie to keep going. But Eddie wasn’t going to open that box just yet. He knew if he told Richie, really told Richie _everything_ , Richie might just send Eddie to the hospital himself. The doctors had told Richie to take everything Eddie said so damn seriously. When Eddie didn’t go on, Richie offered a small smile and a gentle kiss. Feeling the warmth on his lips brought Eddie back a little bit, feeling more grounded and now a little guilty for his behavior.

“Maybe it’s all the lack of sleep, yeah? What can I do to help?”

 _Be with me. Always. Follow me everywhere I go and hold me in the night when you’re supposed to go to work and make a living. You’re the only thing making me feel safe. I can’t be alone._ “Nothing you’re not already doing, Richie. Promise. I’ll talk to the doctor tomorrow.”

“Is that all?”

Eddie didn’t want to lie more. But he didn’t know how to honestly tell Richie, because there were thoughts that Eddie himself was burying way too deep for him to even comprehend sometimes.

“I don’t know,” he finally whispered. He almost protested when he felt Richie’s hands move, but they found themselves more security around Eddie’s waist, pulling him close to Richie’s chest, still warm and wet and bare from his shower. He preferred the Richie that smelled like cheap cologne and cigarettes and whatever smells were still clinging to his clothes from the comedy club, but the Irish Springs bar soap smelling Richie was still comforting. He reached his arm up behind Richie to cling onto his shoulder, pressing himself in more firmly. He still missed giving him full hugs. He wondered if the left side of Richie’s body felt deprived of all the affection Eddie was able to give his right. Just in case, he leaned his head down to the left side of Richie’s chest to feel his heart beat against his cheek while Richie squeezed him tighter.

“You should have sent an SMS, dude.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a message you send to my cell phone. Like an e-mail.”

Eddie huffed. “Who the fuck owns a cell phone except drug dealers and Wall Street guys?”

Lenny grinned down at Eddie, shuffling through his duffle bag. He reminded Eddie a lot of Patrick Hockstetter, sickly skinny and dark looking, but with less rapey-vibes. He was a complete creep and asshole, as these guys usually were, but at least he had never threatened to molest anyone like Patrick had done to Richie on several occasions. Eddie figured Lenny got plenty of blow jobs from blow he sold. Today was a rare day that Eddie didn’t see some strung-out girl in her underwear begging Lenny from his filthy apartment carpet for another bump.

“Here you go,” Lenny said, shaking a baggy at Eddie. Eddie grabbed it, narrowing his eyes as he inspected the pills.

“This is only half of what you gave me last time.”

“You didn’t exactly give me a lot of time, princess. Unless you don’t want them at all…”

Eddie snatched the bag from him before he could take it away, peeling it open to pour into his pill bottle.

“Where’d you get that?” Lenny asked.

“Doctor,” Eddie said simply.

“If you have a doctor, why don’t you get this shit from him?”

“That sounds like it’s none of your business, doesn’t it, Lenny?” Eddie bit. He shook the bottle, but was still not satisfied. “I need it to last a month. If you don’t have anything else, I need half my money back.”

Lenny sighed, but seemed to have an idea of what he could offer, pulling out another rolled up baggy for Eddie to inspect, full of little pink pills.

“These are going to cost you more.”

“Bullshit it is,” Eddie said, trying to grab the bag before Lenny held it over his head. Eddie huffed up at him.

“You’re gay, right?”

“I’m not giving you a fucking blowjob, Lenny. Try it and I’ll bite your dick off.”

Lenny chuckled, but held down the bag for Eddie. Before Eddie could grab it, Lenny shot up his index finger as a warning.

“Just don’t take this shit together with the other stuff. It can get you real fucked.”

Eddie took the bag cautiously, setting it down so he could empty his other pill bottle (since he wasn’t taking those anyway), popping the lid off with his mouth and pouring the new drugs into it. “What kind of fucked?” he finally asked, looking up at Lenny, who simply shrugged.

“Real fucking dead.”

Richie never asked to see his pill bottles again, but Eddie was sure to take them before Richie left for work every night. It certainly helped with his sleep, although it helped a lot more when Eddie was able to drink a little bit. And yeah, he knew drinking was dangerous, but it’s not like he was getting plastered, right? He was just trying to sleep, and sleep he did. Sure enough, he’d be passed out shortly after Richie left for work and didn’t have to fret about keeping Stan up or vise versa. Patty had been coming over now, and Eddie was glad to have Stan distracted from babysitting him, as well as his study buddy keeping him busy when he couldn’t justify sleeping. It was all working for Eddie, or so he thought until one Tuesday at his internship.

Eddie had his internship three days a week after classes; Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. He didn’t mind his boss so much, but many of the guys that worked there were complete and total dickbags. While his boss, Tom, was good enough to actually set up real assignments for Eddie, the workers basically made him a coffee bitch and had him run stupid codes on their computers to fix bugs in the system, something an IT intern should have been doing. But Eddie kept his mouth shut, and on Tuesday he found himself in someone’s cubicle trying to update virus software for the dumb fuck that couldn’t figure it out for himself. As much sleep as Eddie was finally getting, his days dragged on and he was just as exhausted as ever. Eddie sipped his coffee as he heard two of his coworkers speaking in the cubicle next to him.

“Heads up, Tony; we have a new harassment meeting tomorrow before lunch.”

Eddie heard Tony’s chair creak as Tony must’ve leaned back with a heavy sigh. “Didn’t we just have one last month?”

The sound of papers shuffling came next as the coworker, James, must’ve sat on Tony’s desk. “Yeah, well Tom is making a big deal over that whole ordeal with that gay kid now, so we have to talk about politically correct procedures.”

Eddie froze, his hand hovering over the key board as he started straining to hear them better.

“What gay kid?” Tony asked.

“Some queer kid was killed after an altercation, so now the company is flipping out about making sure we know how to sensitively handle talking to them. Here, look.”

Eddie felt his heart beat increasing, listening to what sounded like pages flipping in a newspaper followed by Tony tsking.

“Well shit, I would’ve knocked him out too if some fairy looking motherfucker tried hitting on me. You know how many bar fights I’ve gotten into? Now this faggot dies cause he can’t defend himself and I’ve gotta get a lecture about it? Gimme a fucking break. Dude was asking for it. Don’t they have their own bars to go to?”

James chuckled. “Think they’ll have that Kalbrick kid in the meeting?”

“Who; you mean Kaspbrak?” Tony scoffed, causing Eddie’s heart to skip a beat. “Probably. Tom doesn’t want anyone messing with his pride and joy, does he?”

Eddie tried to get out of the desk chair and leave quietly, but stumbled a bit when his foot caught the chair leg before catching himself on the cubicle wall. He heard the men stop speaking abruptly, and James’s face popped out of Tony’s space when Eddie exited, meeting Eddie’s eye briefly before Eddie ran off to the file room. He didn’t know who they were talking about, but the mere mention of his name started a panic attack and Eddie had barely made it into the privacy of the file room before he started gulping for breaths. His pulse was hammering loudly in his ears and a sharp stabbing sensation started in his chest; he gripped onto his shirt tightly, as though it could somehow ease the pain through his skin and kept gently reminding himself that it wasn’t a heart attack. Each breath came out harsher each time until he was sobbing, but he stopped any tears from falling before he could cry, dreading how embarrassing it would be if anyone caught him fucking crying at the office.

“Get your shit together, Eddie,” he told himself. “Get your shit together.”

But it was difficult to do without any context of the conversation he had heard and he found himself desperate to know what the hell was going on. Once he had calmed himself, Eddie spent his day waiting for the opportunity to peak into Tony’s space and try to see the newspaper for himself. Once the opportunity arrived, Eddie made sure no one was around before going in to look for the newspaper, flipping through the pages before he found the article in question. It was buried deep in the New York Times, but Eddie found it and seeing the headline _Gay Man Beaten and Left for Dead_ sent a wave of nausea ripping into him, reading the article in complete disbelief.

_Matthew Shepard, 22, openly gay college student. Burned. Battered. Tied and left for dead._

This wasn’t a bar fight or some flirting miscommunication. This was fucking murder. Eddie wasn’t sure how he didn’t throw up on the newspaper right then and there. As he made his way out of the office, not even stopping to say anything to the receptionist as he left, all he could do was think about his interaction with the guys outside of the coffee shop. What the _fuck_ had he been thinking? This man, this fucking kid _his own age_ was tortured to death just for being gay, for fucks sake, let alone giving someone sass. Was this how close Eddie was to endangering his own life every day? He had gotten beaten up enough times as a kid that starting fights didn’t bother him as much as they should. But how many rage-fueled homophobes were out there just waiting the get their hands on some little queer like Eddie, looking for any excuse to say, “I couldn’t help it. The faggot was asking for it.”

No one was home when Eddie got there. That wasn’t Richie’s fault; Eddie wasn’t due to be home for a few hours, he shouldn’t expect him to hang around all day waiting for him. But he didn’t know where he was, and although he had some idea of who he could be hanging out with and even where, he didn’t want to spend his time calling around and worrying Richie over his desperation. That wasn’t going to stop him from reaching out, though. He had to talk to someone; and he had an idea who he wanted to talk to.

“Hello?”

“Bev!” Eddie cried into the phone, his voice hoarse from his hyperventilating. “Hey! I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Hey, Eddie!” Beverly’s voice came back, warm and excited. “Holy shit, it’s been _weeks!_ I miss you guys.”

“I miss you, too,” Eddie replied, wiping away a small tear that broke and ran down his cheek. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything, I just – I needed to hear your voice.”

“Aw, Eds, you’re never interrupting. I’m home sick and bored as all fuck. You’re a blessing right now. I’ve been throwing up all day.”

“Oh. You’re not – I mean, you and Ben aren’t…?”

“NO, oh god, no,” she laughed on the other line, and the sound lit Eddie up. “No, it’s just a stomach bug. Ben actually got himself snipped over the summer, so you’re never going to get that panic call at 3 in the morning.”

“He got – what?”

“Ben got a vasectomy,” Beverly said casually. “None of us want to bring a kid into this fucked up world. Plus, we’ll save a shit ton of money on condoms now. I tried getting my tubes tied, but a doctor was like _‘Young lady, we need your husband’s permission! What if he wants kids?’_ like it’s the fucking pilgrim ages.”

Eddie laughed at her screechy impression of the doctor and fell into pleasant conversation. They were able to talk for almost a half an hour, Beverly going on about a trip to Europe Ben had planned for her birthday in the winter that she wasn’t supposed to know about. Eddie just let her talk, letting her stories drown his thoughts that threatened to come back to the surface with every moment of silence. He knew it couldn’t go on, though, and he also knew there was another reason he called her.

“Anything new going on with you? What are you doing home so early?”

“Actually, Bev, I… I wanted to ask you something. It’s kind of personal.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned Ben’s dick _twice_ in this conversation alone, Eddie. Nothing is too sacred for us to hide.”

“Right,” Eddie said softly. “Well, it’s… about the Dead Lights.” He could feel Beverly stiffen up on the other end, her light breathing completely inaudible. “You said… I remember you said once… that you saw us all die in the Dead Lights. If we hadn’t, you know, killed It. We would’ve all died.”

“I don’t want to talk about this, Eddie,” Bev said immediately. Her voice was much darker, lower and uneasy, but firm and Eddie knew he struck a chord somewhere deep within her that she didn’t want unburied. But he _had_ to know.

“Bev, please, just... I just need to know how you saw me die. Please. I _need_ to know.”

There was silence for a moment again. He wished he could be there and offer her some form of comfort in this moment. Shit, he wished he could comfort himself. But Eddie remembered that he always saw that damn leper, homeless looking and rotting away, and Eddie thought about the coffee shop again and how those guys thought he was homeless, not rotting but definitely broken. And he thought about what would’ve happened if he ended up just like that kid in Washington, someone mistaken him for some gay, amputee homeless man dead in the streets. What if the Dead Lights knew? What if Pennywise and his death didn’t matter anymore and those deaths were going to happen to them, no matter what they did? When she spoke again, her voice was so low; barely more than a whisper that Eddie almost felt like it wasn’t real. And really, he wished it wasn’t, because when she spoke again, it deepened his anguish and in turn dug up those feelings that Eddie had been trying to bury deep down for months, for almost a year, those forbidden feelings that he hoped would never resurface and he never wanted to think about again.

“You killed yourself, Eddie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)
> 
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	5. The thing about a spiral is, if you follow it inward, it never actually ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, a chapter filled with super uncomfortable things!  
> I hope everyone had a lovely weekend. Whether you celebrated passover this last week, Easter this weekend, or have no idea what day it is because days don't matter anymore, I hope you were safe and cozy.
> 
> As always, I appreciate everyone still along for the ride. Your comments and kudos fill me with joy.
> 
> TW: inappropriate alcohol and drug use, dubcon? (seriously don't fuck with drugs), mentions of suicide attempts and thoughts, Eddie being stupid

You killed yourself, Eddie. You killed yourself, Eddie. You killed yourself, Eddie.

The words rang both uncomfortable and familiar in Eddie's mind.

_“You tried to kill yourself, Eddie?”_

_Eddie sighed into the phone, feeling the cord vibrating against his neck as he tried to steady his shaking hand. “Not exactly, Bill.”_

_“What is that supposed to mean?”_

_God, listening to Bill hurt almost as bad as Richie. His voice is so broken and it brings Eddie back to the sewers, when Bill was clutching onto Georgie’s yellow raincoat while himself and their other friends held onto each other tight while that deep sadness and acceptance of his brothers death finally plunged itself into Bill. Eddie never imagined he’d be the one to break him again and if Eddie wasn’t already dead inside it would’ve killed him._

_“I just didn’t want to do this anymore.”_

_“Do what?” Bill whispered back._

_“Exist,” Eddie replied as tears fell down his face, a humorless laugh escaping him. “It didn’t even feel like a choice. It was like no matter how much I told myself I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t do it to you guys, to Ri – to Richie… it didn’t matter. My brain was on cruise control and someone else had the wheel. I didn’t… I didn’t_ want _to want to die, but I did. I’m sorry,” he added with a sob, pressing his face into the wall with shame, as though Bill could see him from thousands of miles away. “If it’s any consolation, it’s really hard to hang yourself with one arm.”_

_“That’s not fucking funny, Eddie. Jesus, what even happened?”_

_“Nothing,” Eddie admitted ruefully, shame encasing him. “Nothing happened. Nothing and everything, I guess it just… I don’t know. I thought I was just feeling down, and then it got worse and just every little thing was getting to me and I kept… kept thinking about my mom, and thinking about my dad. And I kept thinking about when I’m supposed to finally feel comfortable with myself, but I can’t and I just feel so fucking scared all the time. But when I started thinking about dying – ” he paused, the word catching in his throat. “ – that was when I stopped feeling so scared. Like, maybe that was it. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. But the second I was – you know, like, about to… I snapped out of it.”_

_“Eddie, are you alone right now? Did you tell Richie what happened?”_

_Eddie closed his eyes, unable to shake away the look on Richie’s face when he came home, seeing Eddie crying on the ground with a broken wrist after he broke himself free and caught his fall; it was now burned into his brain forever. “Yeah, he knows. I’m not home. It didn’t just happen; it was a few days ago. He brought me to the hospital. That’s where I am now.”_

_“Oh.” There seemed to be some sense of relief knowing that Eddie was somewhere safe and not on the floor of his apartment with a poorly tied noose around his neck. But Eddie didn’t like the hospital, as it seemed to be determined to keep him away from the things that he felt were keeping him sane before he cracked – Richie, his books, Richie, their neighbors cat Ziggy that always followed Eddie to the laundry room, Richie. The friends he had made at school started getting freaked out or annoyed at Eddie’s increasingly strange behavior, so they weren’t anywhere near comforting right now, he supposed. And now, if he was stuck here, he wasn’t going back to school, certainly wouldn’t finish the semester, and with how his classes had lined up, his prerequisite wouldn’t be available until the next fall, forcing him to be a year behind. There probably wasn’t a point in going back to school until then now. Richie was only allowed to visit two hours a day, at 10 A.M. and 2 P.M. Eddie was allowed to have a throw blanket Richie had brought him, one that smelled like Richie and their apartment and, for whatever reason, tacos. Eddie threw a fit at one of the counselors because he wasn’t allowed to bring it to their group sessions and he broke his chair._

_There was a moment of silence in which Eddie was sure Bill was trying to figure out the right thing to say – because really, what do you say to someone that drops a bomb on you like that?_

_“Which hospital are you at?” Bill asked softly, like he was trying to make small talk._

_“Bellevue,” Eddie said, keeping his voice low so staff couldn’t hear him. “It’s like the oldest hospital in America and it smells like it, and I’m pretty sure my doctor has been here since they opened.”_

_“Wh-what kind of doctor do you have to see?”_

_“A psychiatrist.” Eddie whispered it much like his mother always had, like it was a disease you could catch if you heard it loud enough._

_“Is he helping?”_

_“I don’t know,” Eddie said, turning to look around to make sure there weren’t any other patients within earshot, keeping his voice low. “Bill, I don’t belong here with these people. I’m not fucking crazy. I just want to go home. I don’t get why I can’t just go home.”_

_“Eddie, you just told me you tried to hang yourself. You’re not crazy, just…”_

_“That was a mistake; I’m not going to do it again. I just… maybe if you talk to Richie…”_

_“Is that why you called?”_

_“No, no,” Eddie assured him. “That’s not the only reason. I wanted to hear from you. But Bill, you’re sensible, Richie would listen to you. He keeps taking the doctors side and assuring him he’ll ‘make sure I take my medicine’ when I leave, it’s like living with my mother all over again. The pills make me feel like a fucking zombie.”_

_“Eds…”  
_

_“What, Bill?” Eddie snapped._

_“It’s not – no one is taking sides. But after what you just told me, I think Richie is doing the right thing. We don’t want to lose you, Eddie. Please, listen to them. I can’t… I can’t lose another brother.”_

_Eddie closed his eyes tight, feeling more tears fall down his cheeks at Bill’s words. Fucking Bill Denbrough; the big brother he never had. “I’ll try, Big Bill.”_

Eddie assured Beverly he was fine. “I had a nightmare,” he had explained. That was all. Just a small paranoid thought. She could understand that, he told her. They all still had nightmares about the sewers; about the clown. She seemed to let it go. Eddie _hoped_ she would let it go. So they said their farewells after Eddie apologized for bringing it up. He dug into his backpack, pulling out the little bottle that read a prescription he wasn’t taking anymore that was now filled with the little pink pills, and Eddie took them for the first time and completed his usual routine of washing it down alcohol and going to sleep. Except this new pill seemed to work much faster than the others, because Eddie couldn’t even remember what happened between sitting on the couch and Richie bouncing on top of him hours later, had almost forgotten about his conversation with Beverly completely.

It wasn’t quite like he was drunk; his limbs felt incredibly heavy, his brain was like cotton and it wasn’t unfamiliar to something his mom had given him to keep him sedated in her home years ago. Everything was in and out of focus. But Eddie was far too out of it to feel scared and he was just trying to focus on Richie’s smiling face looking down on him; he could comprehend that.

“Hello, my little love,” Richie said, poking Eddie’s nose and grinning down at Eddie on all fours over him. “What, you’ve been home for like 20 minutes and already passed out getting sick of waiting for me?”

“Wha – no,” Eddie mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Got home early. Was tired.”

“Well, time to wake up,” Richie said enthusiastically, leaning down to kiss Eddie’s exposed chest; he had no idea when he had even taken that off.

“Mmm, maybe more sleep, Richie…”

“Are you sure?” Richie teased, his hand trailing down to the hem of Eddie’s pants. “Because I can think of a few ways to wake you up…”

“Yeah, OK…” Eddie heard himself mumble.

Eddie felt like his brain was malfunctioning, somehow glitching in and out of reality. He almost felt like he was dreaming and wondered if he was for a while as he was vaguely aware of what he was doing as he and Richie made out. At a moment he felt like he blinked and suddenly realized Richie was grinding into his hand, tucked tightly between the two of them while Richie sucked on his neck. Part of him knew he was speaking, but the words sounded clogged in his ears. He didn’t remember Richie moving but he blinked a few times and realized his hand was then in Richie’s hair and – well, Richie was apparently getting down to business, or at least had been. Eddie had no idea how long it had been; it was like one of those mornings he would keep hitting snooze over and over again and the time between his awareness was cut incredibly short; but he suddenly felt the cool air on his dick when Richie pulled off to look up at him, a hand reaching up to stroke Eddie’s arm.

“You all right, Eds?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie said, but he wasn’t entirely sure why, because he probably wasn’t all right. Richie crawled back up to his face, and Eddie looked down and realized how sensitive he was. “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Richie said, reaching up to stroke Eddie’s face as he leaned over him. He wiped his mouth and Eddie frowned realizing he had actually _succeeded_ in giving Eddie a blowjob without Eddie being completely conscious. It was there somewhere in Eddie’s brain, like a half-remembered dream from days ago despite having just happened.

“Was I…?”

“What?” Richie asked.

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

Richie chuckled, kissing Eddie on the cheek. “You weren’t too loud, if that’s what you’re worried about but it’s not like we have anyone here we need to be quiet for. Stan went to Patty’s dorm after work.”

“Oh,” was all Eddie said about that, feeling like he should be uncomfortable. The room felt hot. “Sorry I was so… tired.”

Richie rubbed Eddie’s arm affectionately. “You weren’t _too_ sleepy, were you? I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to do anything for a while. I just wanted the opportunity to make you feel good while Stan was finally out.”

“No, it was fine,” Eddie said, but his cheeks felt hot.

“Just fine, huh?” Richie said teasingly, but Eddie could see him looking a little disappointed. “You need to shower or anything before we go?” Richie asked, rolling off the couch.

“Go?”

Richie just laughed and it made Eddie feel queasy. “Still got cum-dumb brain? We’re getting tacos.”

“Right. We talked about it.” It was a question, but he tried not to phrase it as such, feeling very weird about not being completely present or wanting to make Richie feel like he just molested his semi-conscious boyfriend.

“Sure did,” Richie chuckled, tossing Eddie his shirt. “Stan and Patty will meet us there.”

“What place is this?”

“New one, by your school. Patty found it. Wicked good deals for Taco Tuesday.”

“Hey, Rich… do you want me to – ”

“Want you to what?” Richie asked, looking confused.

But Eddie froze, because he already had done what he was going to ask, vaguely remembering the moments from just a few minutes ago, before his pants were off and Richie was grinding down into his hand while Eddie got him off from underneath him; it felt like a ghost on his skin, now. “Nothing. I should change.”

Eddie kind of felt like he was coming to a normal functioning level again as he moved around and put on some fresh clothes. Thinking Richie would feel horrible if he knew Eddie was completely drugged out and not just sleepy, he didn’t bring it up, because sure, they had had sex drunk before, but never when just one of them was inebriated. It made Eddie uncomfortable to think about, his body acting in a way he didn’t remember choosing, now choosing to move on and try to enjoy the night. Just don’t think about it. Eddie knew the mantra.

It would be nice to be out somewhere that wasn’t school or work or the apartment, and it was also the first time the four of them would be hanging out on a real date. When they got down to the Mexican place, Patty and Stan were already saving a table in the crowded restaurant, sitting next to each other and giggling over something Stanley had just said.

“Eddie! Richie!” Patty exclaimed as they approached. “You made it!”

“Whoa, how much was that pitcher?” Richie asked, pointing to a large vase of Sangria.

“Twenty bucks, unlimited,” Stan said. “Drink up.”

“Awesome,” Richie praised, but Eddie felt his stomach turning.

“How’s the internship?” Stan asked Eddie, shoving over a basket of tortilla chips that Richie immediately started to demolish.

“Fine, I guess. We got a meeting tomorrow focusing on not being assholes to gay people, and all the actuaries already hate me for it.” Richie immediately turned to look at Eddie with a bewildered look on his face. _Why_ was he bringing this up?

“Is it because of that kid that got killed?” Patty asked quietly. “My brother was telling me about it… absolutely awful.”

“Whoa, what kid?” Richie asked.

Eddie felt himself getting nauseous again, a fluttery nervous feeling filling his chest. “Some assholes tortured a guy in Washington and beat him to death because… because he was gay.”

Eddie could feel Stan watching them both closely, Richie tensing up beside him.

“That’s so fucked,” Richie finally said with disgust, pouring himself some Sangria. “I fucking hate people.”

Eddie didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He hated that he brought it up. He took the pitcher from Richie to pour himself some, wanting to completely numb himself again. It suddenly felt like he and Richie were on display, despite neither of them even touching each other. The entire room might as well have been aligned with eyes staring down at them from each and every angle. Eddie wanted to forget the entire thing completely.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking,” Richie said suddenly, staring down at Eddie’s glass.

“What, why?” Eddie snapped defensively, earning a suspicious glare from Stan.

“Just… because…”

Eddie knew Richie wouldn’t bring up his medication in front of Patty, it was too personal, and so Eddie drank anyway. “You didn’t say anything at Jack’s party.”

“That was probably a mistake.” But he didn’t press it. He kept side-eyeing Eddie, who was drinking more than he probably should. Stan, bless him, was doing his part to change the subject, but Eddie couldn’t tell you what that was, only vaguely aware of what tacos he even ordered when the waiter came along. He was thinking about his mom… which was stupid, he knew that. But if his mom could do something so awful to him, beat him and make him sick, his mom who was supposed to love him unconditionally, what was going to stop a stranger from killing him? Was his existence, as tiny and delicate as he felt, really so threatening to someone just because of who he was in love with? Was Eddie really brave enough to be this scared every day as long as he lived? Of course, if he didn’t live that much longer –

_Don’t think about it, Eddie._

“Jesus!” Eddie exclaimed, feeling Richie’s hand brush against his. “What are you doing?”

Eddie forgot about the other two people across the table as Richie stared at him, wide-eyed and nervous. But he didn’t forget about everyone else, everyone else that could be watching them right now.

“Eddie, do you need to go outside?” Richie asked quietly, leaning forward so only Eddie could hear him. But Eddie wasn’t risking the proximity, using his foot to push his chair back until it was up against the wall, as far from Richie as it could be.

“No, I’m fine,” Eddie replied, but he could hear the slurring of his words and he knew Richie wasn’t going to drop it, causing his nervous energy to start skyrocketing.

“Hey, I’m going to get the bill,” he heard Stan say. Eddie looked up and saw Stan turn to Patty. “Mind coming up with me?”

“Sure,” Patty said, immediately following Stan up and over to the bar.

Eddie watched them leave and saw Richie reach out again from the corner of his eye; he reacted quickly, smacking Richie’s hand away. “Richie, don’t fucking touch me!”

Richie should have been angry; shit, Eddie was angry. Eddie was being a fucking asshole right now. But Richie just looked completely dejected… and it was Eddie’s fault.

“Eds, is this about that guy that was killed?” Richie whispered, leaning in, but otherwise keeping his hands in his lap. Eddie wanted to scream, _It’s everything, everything, everything, Richie!_ but he stayed silent. “Because you know I would never let anything like that happen to you, you know that, right?”

“You can’t promise that,” Eddie rebuked.

“You’ve survived worse,” Richie said matter-of-factly, like it was any consolation.

“So that’s just supposed to be my life now?” Eddie said, feeling his voice straining. “If it’s not a psychotic clown or my own mother trying to kill me, don’t worry, it’s only _every other fucking person_.”

“Shh, Eddie,” Richie pleaded, raising a hand like he was about to grab Eddie’s shoulder, but held himself back. People may have been looking over at them now. “Please let me take you home and we can talk about this. Let’s maybe put the glass down…”

“I’m sorry, is my drinking bothering you all of a sudden? Because I can assure you I was upset before I had any.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Richie said darkly before sighing. “If you want to drink, that’s fine; but how about we go home first? I’ll make you a rum and coke.”

That was a damn lie; Eddie knew Richie was just coaxing him out of the restaurant and would not let Eddie lay a finger on the liquor, but he didn’t want to sit here anymore. So he stood up unsteadily, trying his best to walk without Richie’s help until he felt the cold breeze of the air outside. For a second, he wondered if Richie had stayed behind for whatever reason, but he saw Richie speaking to Stanley at the bar where he and Patty stood. Stanley gave Richie a pat on the back, and Richie waved goodbye to Patty before following Eddie outside.

Eddie began walking before Richie had reached him, not saying anything once Richie made it by his side. Eddie didn’t know if he wanted to talk yet. Hell, he didn’t want to talk about this at all. He should’ve kept his fucking mouth shut. _My day was fine, Stanley_ , _nothing new._ Why the fuck couldn’t he just say that?

“You shouldn’t drink like this on your medication.”

It took Eddie a moment to process what Richie had said, but the anger rose like steam from his belly. Richie was staring at him now, waiting for a response, but Eddie didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of one, letting the anger fester under his skin until Richie decided to speak again. Because Richie was uncomfortable in silence, and if Eddie didn’t speak, eventually he’d need to do it himself.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have let you drink at the party. I shouldn’t let you drink at all.”

 _Let_ you drink? Fucking _let you_ drink? Like Eddie needed his fucking permission now?

“We need to talk to your doctor about this, Eddie.”

“Fuck you.” It spilled out from Eddie’s lips automatically, laced with venom that he knew Richie could feel. There was no playfulness or lightness to it whatsoever; it was heavy and it felt nasty as Eddie muttered it out.

“Hey!” Richie shouted, grabbing Eddie by the shirt, forcing him to stop and look at him; _now_ he was angry. “What the fuck is your problem with me right now?”

“I need you to stop treating me like a fucking child!” Eddie shouted up at him. “Jesus, am I not allowed to be fucking emotional anymore without you automatically trying to send me back to the crazy house?”

“You’re fucking scaring me, Eds!” Richie shouted back, his voice somewhere between rage and anguish. “Every time I think you’re doing better, you slip back down the rabbit hole. I’m trying _not_ to send you to the fucking hospital. I can’t – ” he froze, backing up into the brick of the building behind him, clutching his hair. “Eddie, I keep thinking if I lose control over this I’m going to lose you.”

“You can’t fucking control me, Richie,” Eddie snapped, stepping forward.

Richie slumped down into the wall, shaking his head. “Eddie, I know, I _know_ why you don’t want anyone telling you what to do. I’m not trying to control you, I’m just trying to – ”

“ _Protect me_?” Eddie jeered. Richie looked defeated, hanging his head low. Eddie shoved his hand down in his pocket, frowning and reaching over to check his other. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” Richie asked, as though they hadn’t just been shouting at each other.

“My wallet,” Eddie said, looking back toward the direction they had just came. “I don’t have it.”

Richie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose just under the rims of his glasses, as though a headache was suddenly burdening him. “I’ll go find it just – wait here.”

Eddie’s eyes followed Richie’s retreating figure, jogging down the sidewalk back toward the restaurant where Eddie’s wallet might’ve been, had he brought it with him in the first place. Once he felt Richie was a safe distance, he turned back and crossed the street to the nearest subway entrance, taking a quick glance up the road before skipping down the stairway. He was far too close to home to bother with the subway, but Eddie didn’t want to go home right now. All he wanted was to be alone and postpone the dreaded conversation he didn’t want to have with Richie. Because the more he talked about it, the more he felt it, and he didn’t want to feel it. And even though Eddie never got lost, he wanted to feel as close to it as possible as he clumsily hopped over the turnstile and up to the next passing train, tucking himself into a seat in the far corner of the car once it set off in some direction.

Once his muscles settled and Eddie rested his head against some Broadway poster plastered next to his seat, the overwhelming sleepiness from the excessive alcohol started seeping through Eddie. He yawned, but tried to fight it, knowing the subway was not a particularly safe place to fall asleep. The lights of the old train flickered as it rattled noisily through the underground tunnels. Part of him wondered why he wasn’t afraid of coming down to these tunnels, why they never brought on panic and images of the sewers of Derry. Perhaps it was the crowds of people constantly bustling about, never giving Eddie a chance to feel like he was all alone. Maybe it was all the advertisements one could busy themselves with reading, or graffiti painted along the bricks that shook with each passing train. But Eddie wasn’t afraid right now; just tired.

Richie… god, Richie was going to be so upset with him. It wasn’t until Eddie felt the urge to sniffle that he realized he was crying, hastily reaching up to wipe his face with his sleeve and hoping no one noticed; men don’t cry on the subway.

This was a mistake, one made in desperate anger that Eddie needed to correct. He made a move to stand up, but let his body slide back into his seat as he realized the train was going south. It would be turning around soon, and Eddie wouldn’t have to change trains if he just sat still and waited for it to come back around again so he could go home. Home to Richie, where he should have just went in the first place. God, he was a fucking idiot.

Eddie’s eyes stung with more tears as he yawned, nestling more comfortably into his seat. He couldn’t fall asleep. That would be dangerous. He could get mugged in his sleep. Someone could force him up to give up a wallet that Eddie didn’t have on him, get frustrated and stab him to death. Maybe they’d have mercy and just kill him in his sleep. And maybe, Eddie thought, finally thinking about it and letting that feeling wash over him and nestle itself comfortably in his brain, greeting him like an old friend just as his eyelids fluttered shut… maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)
> 
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	6. The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last chapter was SUPER fucking depressing. With absolutely no promise that things are 100%, this chapter is way more hopeful for our Eddie.
> 
> For this universe, I decided it's canon that at some point during the Summer of Pennywise, Richie was the one that drew the V over Eddie's cast. I imagine the young Richie sneaking into Eddie's window to catch him crying in bed over his cast and drawing it on with the sharpie while they shit talk Greta to make Eddie laugh. Brownie points also go to anyone that points out the John Mulaney reference.
> 
> TW: talks of suicide (ideation and attempt), mild violence, drug use and overdose (no MCD), Eddie getting the good dicking he may not need but deserves (includes frot cause its hot and some unsafe practices, no condom/proper lube for anal, don't do that guys)

_“Did you engrave ‘LOSER’ on the inside of my ring?” Richie asked with a laugh._

_“Sort of,” Eddie replied, rolling over in Richie’s childhood bed and smiling up at him. “I told them to engrave ‘LOSER’ and go over the S with a V. The lady looked at me like I had six heads. But it’s just like you wrote on my old cast, remember?”_

_Richie grinned wider, slipping the ring back onto his finger before pulling Eddie into his chest. “I can’t believe you remembered that little stunt. I thought I was being subtle.”_

_“You were never subtle; I was just an idiot. Besides, that was kind of a memorable summer. I engraved it on mine, too,” Eddie added, showing Richie his ring, although they couldn’t see the engraving as it was tucked onto Eddie’s finger._

_“How do you feel about a Jewish wedding?” Richie asked, stroking up and down Eddie’s arm. Eddie couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Stan would have to officiate it, and his father would disown him if he became ordained with any other cult or religion or whatever.”_

_“What wedding? We can’t get married.”_

_“Stop being so pessimistic,” Richie said, frowning. “You wouldn’t have proposed if you didn’t think it could happen someday.”_

_“It wasn’t so much a proposal as it was just – you know – ”_

_“Asking me to spend the rest of my life with you?”_

_“Well, I mean, yeah. It’s different.”_

_“How is it different, Spaghetti?”_

_Eddie sighed, plopping his arm down onto Richie’s chest. He still wasn’t quite used to not having his right arm then, but at least he didn’t have to worry about where to tuck it uncomfortably as he laid on his right side against Richie’s body. “When you get married you can celebrate with people.”_

_“Fuck other people. We have each other.”_

_Eddie’s frown deepened. “We can’t share any spousal benefits or anything. It’s kind of a big deal if the government doesn’t acknowledge us as a couple.”_

_“Well, when we do get married, because it’s going to happen, the only people that need to be there are my parents and the Losers. Stan will officiate it, so we’ll get kippahs – ”_

_“Why is Stan agreeing to this?” Eddie chuckled._

_“Because Ben and Mike will write out these long-ass speeches and poems about love that’ll bore us to sleep, Bill will absolutely hate speaking in front of everyone, and Beverly needs to be maid of honor.”_

_“Wait, so who’s the bride?”_

_They stared at each other for a moment before simultaneously throwing their index fingers to their noses and shouting “NOSE GOES!” which threw them both into giggle fits._

_“Fine, you want me to wear a dress and carry a bouquet down the aisle?” Richie teased, tugging on Eddie’s collar. “Because the thought of you in a tux is making me fucking drool right now. I already want to rip you out of it.”_

_“But then I won’t get to see the look on Stan’s face when I shimmy my head up your dress to pull the garter down with my teeth.”_

_It was fun to plan this elaborate wedding they would never have, and Eddie almost felt like it could’ve been possible (minus Mark Hamill showing up during the reception per Richie’s request, Pizza Hut and Taco Bell catering per Richie’s request, and giant hot air balloon show per Eddie’s) . It was a nice thought that, one day, there wouldn’t be anything strange about them, setting them apart from most other people in the world and creating this giant divide making them feel so different that it felt wrong. Because it just didn’t seem right, that no one had stopped people like Eddie’s mother from getting married or having kids, as abusive and horrible as she was, but somehow the way he felt about Richie was the wrong way._

_Because, honestly, fuck that._

“That’s my seat.”

Eddie startled awake and looked up at the man that just kicked him. Nausea rolled through him as he realized he must’ve dozed off, and not a single other person was left on the subway.

“What time is it?” Eddie asked.

“Time isn’t real. But you’re in my seat, kid. I earned it; I’ve been sleeping there for 6 months.”

“If time isn’t real, how do you know it’s been 6 months?”

The man looked confused for just a moment before his face contorted and shouted, “Get the fuck out of my chair!”

Eddie promptly got his ass up, briefly able to see that the train had just passed 86th and Broadway. He nervously kept his eyes out the window until he realized he was going north, muttering a “hell no” to himself and promptly got off at the next stop before he ended up in the Bronx, not wanting to think about how many times he had passed through it already as he slept. As he ran between the corridors, making his way to the south-bound red track trains, he caught eye of the time and realized he had been sleeping for almost 3 hours. Fuck.

It would take him at least a half hour to get back to his apartment. He wondered if he should call, but scratched that idea immediately because he didn’t have his wallet or change on him, and after having just recently confused for homeless _and_ slept on a subway train, he wasn’t about to go begging for change now. A steady stream of panic coursed through him, unable to sit still as he headed south back to SoHo and to Richie, wondering what Richie had done in those hours of Eddie’s absence. Eddie thought he deserved to be punched in the face right about now for even leaving Richie in the first place.

_That’s why you’d be better off dead, Eddie boy. You’re nothing but a burden now._

God, he hated this. Eddie was acutely aware of how hungry he was again, having barely eaten at dinner, but he was also nauseous and slightly hungover and dehydrated. At the very least, it distracted him from other, more intrusive thoughts. He was also realizing along the way home that it took him… a while. He actually went the wrong direction at some point, which was a strange occurrence. He had lived in New York for 4 years, which was bad enough, but he never caught himself going in the wrong direction. Especially because, for fucks sakes Eddie, Home Alone 2 was a bunch of bullshit, the streets are numbered here, how do you _get lost_ in New York? But if he hadn’t sensed his father’s presence in months, maybe other parts of him were slipping away, too.

There was a mixture of overwhelming joy and anxiety when Eddie caught sight of his apartment, starting to feel really ashamed of himself when he saw Stan out on the front stoop of the building. Eddie knew he fucked up really bad because Stanley was smoking; it was a very rare occurrence for the old boy scout. It started happening when they went to parties their freshman year of college, not quite becoming an addiction, but he soon followed suit with Richie, meeting their previous habits somewhere in the middle; it was soon known that if either of them were smoking a cigarette, they were either really drunk or _really_ fucking stressed out.

Another thing about Stanley Uris was that he was a gentle soul. Stanley Uris was the kind of man that liked watching birds in the park and talking about their migration habits and color patterns. Stanley liked puzzles and reading and (although wouldn’t shy away from the occasional Pearl Jam song) really loved classical music. Stanley Uris may have had a long-running shit-talk match with his best friend Richie Tozier, but he was not a violent person. So Eddie didn’t quite know how to react right away when he walked up to him and was interrupted midsentence by Stanley’s fist punching him square in the mouth and knocking him flat on his ass.

“Stan, I know what you’re gonna say – OOF!”

OK, and yeah, Eddie probably deserved that, he thought, while Stanley started screaming over him, one of his feet planted on Eddie’s chest to keep him down.

“Do you have any goddamn idea how wrecked Richie is right now?! Jesus Christ Eddie, you could’ve been dead and we’d have no idea!”

“Fuck – yeah, I know – I fell asleep on the subway, I’m sorry – ”

“Stop saying you’re fucking sorry all the time!” Stan shouted. “You can’t keep acting shitty and then expecting us to feel bad after over and over again! I’m going to end up fucking kill you before you can bother trying to do yourself in again, Eddie!”

“Yup,” Eddie said, nodding his head and feeling his cheeks blush in embarrassment and discomfort at Stan’s verbalizing Eddie’s shameful incident last year. “I got it. So – I mean, yeah. Can I get up now? This sidewalk is disgusting.”

Stanley’s eyes got wide, looking short of wanting to murder him, but took his foot off of Eddie anyway.

“You slept in a train that smells like piss and you’re bitching about the fucking sidewalk. Unbelievable.”

Eddie reached up to grab Stanley’s hand, but Stan just grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him up roughly ( _When the fuck did he get this strong?_ ) and pushed Eddie towards the stairs to their building.

“You’re not coming in?” Eddie asked him.

Stanley took a long drag from his cigarette, wincing at the taste he never got used to (“It tastes like fucking shit,” he’d always say as he would reluctantly share a cigarette with Richie), flicking it out onto the street before picking up a backpack Eddie had not noticed before just then. “No. I’m just gonna keep yelling at you and get Richie more upset. I’m going to go sleep at Patty’s dorm.”

“Oh – OK.”

Stan stood there for a moment staring at Eddie, and he wondered why he hadn’t gone running off yet. He still looked kind of angry, but there was another look, almost contemplative as he watched Eddie standing nervously on the top of the stairs. It looked like he was about to walk away for a second, but instead he took a step closer to Eddie.

“I’ve thought about it too, you know.”

“Thought about what?”

“Killing myself,” Stan said.

Oh. Eddie hadn’t been expecting that, and he was sure his face said that pretty clearly, staring incredulously at Stanley, who had said it so matter-of-factly, one would think he was commenting on the weather. He let out a long, tired sigh before continuing.

“A couple years ago, I went through these long months where I kept thinking about It. You know, _It_ it. I kept wondering, like, what if It comes back? What if we’re not done, you know? What if we have to go back to Derry and follow through on that stupid promise?” He lifted his hand, the one where he still had a scar from their blood oath, tracing it lightly with his fingers. “I was in the bath one day – ”

“You still take baths?” Eddie blurted out, shutting up at the death glare Stan gave him.

“Anyway, like… I was just staring at it and tracing it with one of my razors – not breaking my skin or anything, just lightly grazing the skin, but… I thought… maybe if I just dug it in a little deeper…” His fingers slowly traced down his wrist, and it gave Eddie a cold shiver, because he knew what that felt like, that small moment when you had that power over your own life in your hands like that, both terrifying and exhilarating. Of course, it was only after he tried to go through with it that he felt like absolute shit. He wondered if trying to kill yourself was a lot like a hangover. It was a terrible feeling, but somehow you’d seem to forget just how bad it was until the next time you wanted to get drunk and do it all over again.

“But you didn’t,” Eddie said hoarsely. “You’re not as big of a pussy as I am.”

Stanley dropped his hands, looking up at Eddie very seriously. “It doesn’t make you weak, Eddie. It just means we have to make some changes to help you get through this. I mean, _all_ of us had that fucking clown; you’ve got a lot of other shit going on that I don’t think I could handle myself.”

Eddie just nodded, feeling a little in awe of the subtle praise of Eddie’s supposed resilience that Stan somehow saw. “What made you not do it?”

“Yahtzee.”

There’s no way Eddie heard that right, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head like a dog. “Come again?”

Stanley shrugged. “I heard you and Richie come home that night, and you pounded on the door and told me to come out and play Yahtzee and listen to Richie’s audition bit for the club. It was really stupid, but we ordered pizza and just shot shit for hours while Richie was practicing his first stand-up routine for us and it was really funny and I just enjoyed myself. I didn’t want to lose that. I didn’t want to lose you guys. And don’t you dare ever tell Richie that I think he’s actually funny.”

God, it _was_ really stupid. It also kind of made Eddie want to cry though, too.

“Hey, Stan?” Eddie asked hesitantly before Stanley walked away.

“What?”

“Thanks for kicking my ass when I needed it. No one else probably would have done that.”

“Fuck off and let your husband know you’re alive, please,” Stan deadpanned, but Eddie caught the slight smirk on his face before leaving Eddie there alone.

Eddie could remember the days he’d be running late for his smaller classes, the ones in little classrooms that you couldn’t walk into unnoticed. He’d stand there outside the door, being terrified to go in and feel everyone staring at him or be called on by the professor, but also knew that the longer he waited the worse it would get. In a very weird sense, that’s how he was feeling now, walking up to his apartment door. Eddie didn’t bother bringing his keys with him when they had left earlier; he was supposed to be going home with Richie. It didn’t surprise him that the door was unlocked. Trying not to startle Richie, Eddie opened the door slowly to keep it from creaking and realized that Richie was on the phone with someone when he walked in.

“ – just don’t want to keep pestering him and making it worse. How am I supposed to find a balance between overbearing and not seeming like I care? … Yeah, I know I’m not, mom. It still feels like it, though.”

Eddie let the door close behind him loud enough that he thought Richie could hear it. Richie turned his head, doing a double take as he saw Eddie standing at the door, completely bewildered by his presence.

“Shit – mom, Eddie is back – yeah, no, gotta go, love you – ”

Eddie braced himself as Richie slammed the phone down, tensing up as he expected Richie to turn and scream and yell like Stan had done. But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, Eddie was soon swooped up into Richie’s arms, squeezing him into a tight hug, feeling tears already dropping onto his shoulders from Richie’s cheeks. It broke him a little bit, and he starting crying too, pulling his arm around to squeeze Richie back.

“I’m so sorry,” Richie sobbed, and god fucking dammit, Eddie thought, Richie should _not_ be the one apologizing right now. Richie pulled away to grab both sides of Eddie’s face and stared at him desperately. “Just tell me what I have to do, Eddie. Whatever it is you need to start feeling better, I’ll do it. Do you want me to find you a different doctor? Do you want me to take off work for a few weeks – fuck, I’ll do it, if you need me to be here for you – ”

“Richie, stop, stop,” Eddie tried to say gently, and Richie shut his mouth firmly as if Eddie had shouted at him. “Please don’t do any of that. It’s bad enough you screwed up your first tour.”

“Oh, shit,” Richie mumbled. Eddie still caught tears streaming down his cheeks, following the already wet paths trailing down, looking like little wet pulses running down thick veins against his freckles. “Stan told you about that?”

“Yeah, but you should’ve told me. You can’t put your life on hold like that, Richie. That was _such_ a big deal for you.”

Richie sniffled. “I didn’t want to leave you. You wouldn’t have wanted me to leave.”

Eddie took a deep, shaky breath, because he knew Richie was right and he hated it. “I can’t keep relying on you like that, Richie. It’s not either of our jobs to fix each other. I need – ” Fuck, he really had to say it. “I need help. I need real help.” And Richie looked a little confused at that, because Eddie had been telling him he was going to the doctor when he wasn’t, and telling him he was taking his medication when he wasn’t, and telling him he was all right when he damn well wasn’t. All the lies were about to crash down, and very selfishly, Eddie wanted to savor one good moment before that happened. “There is one thing you can do right now, Richie.”

“Anything. What is it?” Richie asked immediately. He never hesitated if Eddie needed something from him. Fuck, Eddie loved him so much.

“Just one more distraction. I promise, just – just one more and we can talk – ”

Boy, did Richie deliver. Eddie very nearly forgot where he was for a minute after Richie crashed their lips together and pulled Eddie into him like he’d die if Eddie wasn’t pressed up that firmly into his chest. Eddie didn’t always care too much for being carried, but he let his legs wrap around Richie’s waist when he lifted him up, trusting Richie to carry him into the bedroom, digging his nails into the roots of Richie’s hair. At one point he might’ve realized Richie’s glasses knocked off, but they both seemed to forget the moment they crashed onto the bed. Richie seemed to want to let Eddie control the situation, so he dropped himself down on his back, letting Eddie sit comfortably on top of him. One of Richie’s hands was up on Eddie’s face, slowly sliding into his hair, while the other sat securely at Eddie’s hip to keep him steady on top of him.

“What do you want?” Richie gasped when they finally broke their kiss to look at each other. “What do you need?” Eddie supposed the latter was the better question right now, but this was more about what Eddie wanted from him in this moment. Sometimes, Eddie wanted to be in control and make Richie gasp underneath him. Other times, he wanted to feel Richie inside of him and look up at Richie with begging eyes to go faster, harder, whatever it was he needed. But right now was one of those times he wanted Richie to feel what he was feeling, to be a complete entity against each other and just – just be together, and he couldn’t quite explain it. And thankfully, he didn’t really have to, and once they undressed, he was able to pull back and bring Richie on top of him and just loved feeling him against him, grinding their hips together while Richie mouthed at his neck, because that always drove Eddie crazy, whispering all the things he loved about Eddie into him, reaching down between them occasionally to give them both long strokes with his large hand. It was scary when he felt tiny in the world, but he _loved_ how small he was under Richie, how it felt like Richie completely encased him under the warmth of his large frame; it felt safe; it felt like home.

“You are so fucking sexy,” Richie was breathing against Eddie’s neck, one of his hands up in Eddie’s hair, gripping into it like an anchor. “God, I love everything about you.”

Eddie reached up to tug Richie’s own hair hard enough to pull his head up so he could look into his face, his eyes all dark and intense and enamored with the smaller man under him. Thirteen year old Eddie would’ve shit himself if he could see them right now. “Tell me,” he whispered back, and felt Richie’s hand reach up to cup his face, keeping his eyes on him while he was thrusting his hips into Eddie’s.

“I love how you still blush and get all flustered when I touch you. I love how wide and innocent your eyes look while you’re thinking dirty thoughts about us. I love how fucking soft your skin always is,” he said as his thumb grazed the bottom of Eddie’s lip. He grinded down into Eddie extra hard, forcing Eddie to let out a high pitched moan as Richie’s cock pressed against his own and Richie grinned down at him. “I love how you whine when I make you feel good. And fuck, I love the curls in your hair and hate that you never let it grow out this long growing up,” he added, giving Eddie’s hair a tug and forcing more noise out of him. Eddie felt Richie’s hand run down the side of his neck, over his shoulder and down the sensitive scar tissue that Eddie only ever let Richie touch, because every way Richie touched him just felt _so fucking good._

“Awfully little talk about my dick when it’s right next to yours, huh?” Eddie teased, which was a _little_ mean, but Richie grinned as he pinched Eddie’s side.

“You fucking brat,” he laughed, kissing Eddie’s neck up to his ear, where Eddie felt him whisper, “And I fucking love your big dick, asshole.”

Richie bit down into the skin under Eddie’s earlobe. It made Eddie hiss and dig his nails into Richie’s back.

“Fuck – Richie, fuck – can you fuck me?” Eddie suddenly gasped with urgency, because now he was getting _close_ and he wanted to feel Richie on and inside every inch of him he possibly could, wanted Richie to fucking consume him.

“Fuck, yeah, hold on,” Richie said, pulling back to get up, but Eddie reached out for him again desperately.

“No, no condom, no time.”

“Eds,” Richie said warningly, but pressed himself back down into Eddie and kissed him hard and deep and Eddie needed to feel that everywhere.

“Please, Rich,” he begged against his lips. “Just – please?”

He felt Richie moving below their waists and thought briefly Richie started jerking off, but realized he was helping spread his precum before spitting into his hand and adding more lubrication. It took him longer than Eddie wanted him to, and it wasn’t as smooth as it could’ve been, but once Richie pressed into him, Eddie slammed his head back down into the bed with the intensity of it and, dammit if he couldn’t help himself, blurted, “Fuck, I fucking love your dick, too,” which made Richie laugh despite their fucking, panting “I fucking love how funny you are,” and it just made Eddie feel _giddy_ hearing it _._

They were probably having sex for a full 20 seconds when Eddie’s orgasm hit him like a freight train, having already been in a craze before he felt Richie push against his prostate. He silently thanked Stan for not being home, because nothing else about this was quiet. Even as he came down, he whimpered through Richie’s last few thrusts while he chased Eddie’s orgasm and finally came, too.

Richie sometimes dramatically collapsed after sex, but he held himself up, panting as he looked down at Eddie with that completely smitten look that made Eddie feel both undeserving and whole. He wanted to be stuck in this moment and forget about the bad stuff for as long possible, but he knew it was there in the foreground of his mind waiting impatiently and burst through. In this moment, though, he reached up to touch Richie’s face, which had no right being as beautiful as it was; his jaw line that could cut through steel, the stark contrast between his pale skin and darker features which almost made him look like a black and white photo, if it hadn’t been for the plump pinkness of his lips, which were now moving as he spoke softly to Eddie.

“I love you so much.”

It never failed to hear that and fill Eddie with enough light to push the darkness down, even if not completely.

“I love you, too; so much.”

Richie leaned down, pressing his forehead into Eddie’s, his fingers caressing Eddie’s skin tenderly on his chest and his face. Eddie knew Richie was trying to hold onto this moment, too; so he let him.

Eventually, they found themselves clothed and under the covers, rolled onto their sides and looking at each other, waiting for the other to speak first. Eddie knew he owed Richie this, though.

“I don’t really know where to start,” Eddie admitted softly.

Richie’s face and voice were earnest when he spoke. “Why don’t we start with your medicine? Or, should I say, the random pills that are in a prescription bottle dated from 3 months ago?”

Shit. Eddie’s mouth became dry, but he forced himself to speak. “How long did you know about that?”

Richie briefly lifted his head to look somewhere behind Eddie and relaxed again. “Three hours. I would’ve said something if I knew before then. You left them on the coffee table. Your pills were never pink.”

“Right,” Eddie replied sheepishly.

Richie sighed. “What are they, vitamins?”

There they were, those nervous flutters in Eddie’s chest that caused it to constrict tightly. “We’re going to fight,” he warned. “You’re going to be really upset.”

Richie’s expression didn’t change, but the flare in his nostrils didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie. He waited for Eddie to keep speaking, so he did.

“Do you remember Lenny Burke?”

Eddie jumped as Richie sat up suddenly, his expression incredulous. Of course Richie remembered Lenny. Lenny was the first guy they found to sell them pot when they came to New York. And he was damn sure Richie also remembered their old friend, Charlie, overdosing on what they found out was fentanyl laced in Charlie’s weed, weed he had gotten from Lenny, and ultimately being found dead in his apartment by none other than Richie himself. They were merely freshman, but they had gotten close to Charlie, another New England kid that went to the community college Eddie and Richie started at, and god was Charlie just so damn funny and kind before they had found him fucking dead. When Richie confronted Lenny about this, Lenny nonchalantly said it wasn’t his responsibility, saying he was a fucking drug dealer and he sold “a lot of crazy shit” and when Richie asked what that crazy shit was and found out Lenny was selling a whole lot more than just weed, Richie never went back to him again.

“Eddie, please tell me you’re fucking joking.”

“No.” Eddie looked up and felt his insides freeze at the sheer terror on Richie’s face.

“Eddie… what the _fuck_ have you been taking?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)
> 
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	7. I would never slay the dragon, because the dragon was also me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend everyone! If days of the week even matter for you. Regardless, I hope you're being healthy and safe and staying off the beach.
> 
> TW: descriptive suicide attempt; suicidal ideation and past trauma, including child abuse.

_How did this all start?_ That was a big question.

The clown.

No, it was long before that. The clown just dug it all up from where it was buried.

_I believe it all started with my mother, Dr. Freud; my strained relationship with her must have turned me into a homosexual._

No, no, OK… no jokes.

The abuse.

It was such a dirty word, abuse. Eddie never liked uttering it, even in passing. It was tainted with images of violence, grotesque bruises, lashes, and… perverted things. It wasn’t all like that, Eddie always thought; it’s not like it was a daily occurrence. He could count on his hand the amount of times she had laid hands on his face, bad enough to leave marks at least.

The first time he remembered was when he was a small child and it served as a reminder what would happen if he disobeyed mommy. _For your own good_. Oh, the school wouldn’t get suspicious of the bruises, because he suddenly got so sick, _You can’t go to school for a week, Eddie-bear._ You got sick because you disobeyed your mother; those bruises were just a reminder to never do it again. Except, all you can remember were the bruises. You can’t even remember what you did wrong that needed correcting. So what even was the point?

Until she realized fear alone couldn’t stop him. He needed a reminder. Not a toe out of line.

The second time was after the clown. Coming home from the sewers, covered in god knows what, smelling of vomit. She screamed and wailed and thanked god you were alive. God, you were so triumphant and proud of yourself for what you overcame and who you made it out with. But that didn’t matter. What did she do when you couldn’t tell her where you had been and rebuked back that attitude, dripping with your new-found confidence? Sent you to the floor with bruises.

Eddie just told his friends he was sick… again. _It must’ve been from the vomit, guys. I must’ve breathed it in funny or something. Maybe even the gray water_. Then the wounds healed, with some help from Vicodin she saved for special occasions, which helped him kind of not mind staying in bed… and he obeyed.

Eddie would never forget the other two times it happened; they were both because of Richie. The homecoming dance their junior year… and then the infamous phone call Eddie made from Richie’s house when he was supposed to be with the church. But deep down Eddie knew it wasn’t the lying that she disliked, but the truth about her son, that one day he might do as his father had done and try to leave her for _a man_. It was a hard thing to accept, that your mother would’ve killed you if that was the only way she could keep you from leaving. She may have only left bruises on a handful of occasions, but the emotional torment from her control, what a doctor would later explain to Eddie was munchausen by proxy, it created some deep seeded issues in Eddie that did more harm than good; the homophobia was just a sick subpart of that, since she always _insisted_ it was a disease. Instead, he ended up being saved by the boy his mother had hated so much, and at least he came out alive, albeit with one less limb. Even Pennywise had only managed to break his arm, not remove it entirely.

Pennywise. That was a doozy.

_Well, doc, an alien shape-shifted into a clown, crawled out of a refrigerator and tried to eat my face after breaking my arm and covering me in It’s drool._

Eddie supposed he could just adjust the details a little bit. Who would he say it was? A school bully gone mad? Henry Bowers was certainly a good excuse, since he was put away for the murders anyway. A child predator? Technically, the latter wasn’t a lie. But good luck trying to explain the underlying primal fear from deep within that that _thing_ would be back in about 18 years. Even with the knowledge that Derry still existed, that none of the Losers forgot each other yet, it was still an understandable dread to keep pocketed away until you really knew for sure.

But in all honesty… that didn’t always matter. Because the real world was cruel. Eddie’s mother was cruel, his own thoughts were cruel, and he seemed to spend each hour of his life thinking about everything wrong with it.

This, Eddie thought, was incredible and inexplicably stupid. Eddie _loved_ his life. He was in love with his best friend, and his best friend loved him back. He couldn’t ask for a better kind of love than that. He still got to talk to the other Losers all the time, and Stan always proved to be a caring and trusted friend and roommate. All of his professors remarked how great of a student he was; so bright, so meticulous, even if a little stubborn. Eddie had friends – well, exactly. Eddie _had_ friends here. One could argue he still did, but in his mind the ones he still hung out with always seemed like _Richie’s_ friends, people _Richie_ met at work or a bar. And if the friends he had really decided Eddie wasn’t worth their time because he was depressed and weird, well, that could probably mean they weren’t real friends in the first place.

_I feel weird._

That’s what Eddie started saying some times when Richie asked him what was wrong. It was difficult to explain and Eddie could not find a genesis for the feelings. They just… were. After a couple of years of living peacefully and enjoying young adulthood in the big city, those feelings started finally emerging. They started small at first, sometimes after a long day or stressful event, but then they just started happening even in moments Eddie knew he was supposed to be happy. Little things set him off, but no one really realized something was deeply wrong with Eddie until he dropped one of his and Stan’s dinner plates in the kitchen one night when Richie was working.

“What did you do now, butter fingers?” Stan had joked from the living room before Eddie started wailing. He just stared down at the cracked plate and scattered potatoes in utter disbelief that it was causing him so much anguish and he was just staring and crying and shaking, trying desperately to hold on tight to the other plate in his grasp until Stan came running in, pure concern etched on his face. Of course, Stan brought it up to Richie. Eddie overheard them talking about it when he was supposedly napping, the bedroom door left slightly ajar, and they apparently thought there was more to the problem. Which there was, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel the problem… was just him.

“He’s starting to scare me.”

“Maybe he’s just stressed about graduating.”

“I can’t feel like I can leave him alone anymore.”

“He’s just sad _all the time_.”

Then _those_ feelings started. Dying used to be a terrifying concept, but then it became comforting.

I wouldn’t feel so bad anymore.

I wouldn’t stress them out anymore.

I wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore.

There was never a plan before Eddie was at the store getting batteries for Richie’s Gameboy. The sensation came over him so suddenly when he saw the rope and from that point all the way until he got home with it, he felt like he was possessed. Someone else took over his body and decided he wasn’t going to live to see the next day. The knot of the noose was fine, he had made sure of that even one-handed, but the one tied up on the clothing rod of the closet was ( _thankfully_ ) loose. Eddie had kicked away the box he was on, and the recesses of his mind awakened and conjured someone to help him out. His eyes sprung open with the pressure on his neck and he met the gaze of his father standing in front of him, desperately talking him out of the thoughts that brought him to this point in the first place, surely tortured with the knowledge that there was nothing else he could do to help Eddie from whatever spiritual plane he lived in.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

Eddie tugged and tugged, eyes tearing up, unable to properly call out to anyone for help, until he felt the rope loosen off of the rod. The sudden drop forced him to react, throwing his hand down to catch his fall stupidly, and he felt his wrist break under all his weight. He screamed out, rolling onto his back and continued to sob until the bedroom door burst open.

Richie… god, Richie. He had come home and assumed Eddie was napping, since the only time their bedroom door was closed was when they slept. Eddie did not hear him come in quietly, busying himself in the living room with some Oreos and the packet of batteries Eddie had left for him on the coffee table. Because, you know, batteries were a total consolation for leaving him behind after committing suicide. What the fuck was Eddie thinking?

 _What the fuck was I thinking_? That’s what went through his mind when he saw Richie’s face as he stared down at Eddie post-suicide attempt. Eddie will never forget that face. He wasn’t there for any moment when someone lost a loved one. Afterword’s, sure, when they told him, but he was never there for that _moment_ when their hearts shattered. He could see it on Richie’s face then; that’s what hurt Eddie the most. Nothing he had ever experienced before could match the humiliation, shame, and outright despair he felt in that moment.

They had all these magnets on the fridge from various school events, most of which Richie kept as a joke. D.A.R.E., Alcoholics Anonymous, Safe Sex for Students… the National Suicide Hotline. It wasn’t something they thought they ever needed, but Richie sat beside Eddie on the floor (after throwing away the rope) and held him while he talked to a counselor from the hotline who suggested he do an evaluation at the hospital. And so he did.

“We’d like to keep you for 30 days to make sure the medication is doing its job.”

“This is stupid,” Eddie told Richie.

“The counselor agreed you might have to stay,” Richie offered.

“Did you know Ted Bundy worked for a suicide hotline?” Eddie argued back. “Are we really going to trust Ted Bundy, Richie?”

There went an entire school year worth of time. At least, since he had medical documentation, Eddie was able to get his semester’s tuition back, and all W’s on his transcript for withdrawing the semester early. Dr. Worthy referred Eddie to an outpatient psychiatrist, some therapists he couldn’t afford, and sent him off with 60 days worth of ketamine. It helped with his thoughts, but Eddie found himself losing his mind in other ways. His father showed up less and less. Most of his days were spent in a lethargic trance, and he was having a difficult time trying to remember what he had learned in school. He brought this up with his new doctor, who just shrugged.

“Memory loss is a side effect for many.”

Apparently, so was poor libido.

“It’s OK,” Richie kept saying gently. “We can try another night. Let’s just pick a movie and cuddle on the couch.”

His doctor added a new medication; Wellbutrin. Many people felt it helped with energy and depression. He kept him on the ketamine. They all kept saying it was for his own good; he had to take the good with the bad. Eddie was sick of it. _He_ wanted to control what he did. It was his body; why did he have to accept this shit?

So he went to Lenny.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Lenny said, eyeing Eddie with suspicion. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Skip the pleasantries, please,” Eddie said. “Do you still carry prescription drugs?”

“Depends what you need,” Lenny said.

Eddie had overheard another patient at his doctor’s office talking to her mom about Xanax. It was apparently helping with her depression-caused anxiety. Eddie had always had anxiety and thought maybe he needed to take the reins on that. He found his depression worsened after he was anxious or afraid of something. When he brought it up at his appointment though, his doctor refused. No controlled substances, he had said.

So of course Lenny had some. Eddie had already stopped taking his other drugs completely out of spite. He took the xanax home, emptied his Wellbutrin bottle and filled it with the new pills. The shape was a little off, but they were still little white pills one couldn’t really distinguish the difference of in the bottle. Eddie self-prescribed them as a PRN. They also helped him sleep. In the last few weeks, he couldn’t really find himself able to sleep without them… and certainly washing it down with alcohol helped bring the sleep on faster. When Eddie asked what the pink pills were, Lenny just told him they “work the same.”

“So, you don’t actually know what they are?” Richie asked him, squeezing the bridge of his nose, cigarette smoking from his finger tips. He had gotten up and lit a cigarette mid-conversation, for which Eddie did not really blame him, and now stood partially leaning his backside on top of their dresser. “I’m not… I’m not _mad_ , I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck you were thinking, Eds.”

“He just said they worked kind of the same way,” Eddie said shamefully. “So I took them. This afternoon was the first time, though.”

Richie’s hand dropped, swinging lithely at his side, his expression scrunched like he was working something out in his head. “Today, before your nap?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said back quietly. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t, and watched helplessly as Richie’s expression became more perturbed.

“So when I came home… were you… like… completely fucked up?”

Eddie pursed his lips, feeling his cheeks burn and his stomach get queasy before slowly nodding. Richie hid his face in his hands, pressing the palms firmly into his cheeks.

“It’s not… like, it wasn’t bad,” Eddie tried to reason. “It’s not like I would’ve said no or anything if – ”

“That’s not the point, Eds,” he heard Richie grumble behind his hands. “God, that is so fucking... Jesus… I feel like a fucking shithead. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

“It’s not your fault, Richie. And I’m fine. You’re not, like, a stranger or anything. We love each other, we know each other – ”

“And yet I couldn’t figure out that you were completely out of it and not just _tired_. Fuck,” Richie muttered, his cigarette burning down to his finger. He put it out on a plate on the nightstand before leaning back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. “You need to throw the pills out,” he said firmly.

“OK,” Eddie said, a little anxious, but willing to do this for Richie, even if he couldn’t do it for himself.

“Wait,” Richie said suddenly as Eddie got up. “Bring them in here.”

Eddie complied, going to fetch the pill bottle from the coffee table where they sat still, and came back to see Richie sitting at his desk, booting up his computer, which he normally used for writing material.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked, putting the pill bottle down in front of Richie.

“Asking Jeeves what these fucking things are,” Richie replied. Eddie groaned.

“Rich…”

“Eddie, please. I just want to know what it is this fucker gave you.”

Getting on the internet was frustrating and slow, and sometimes Eddie wondered if it would take less time to just go down to the library and check out a book.

“There’s a new search engine they started using at work called Google.com,” Eddie said, but Richie shook his head.

“That sounds fucking stupid, I’m going to AskJeeves. What the fuck even is a google?”

Eddie just waited for Richie to type in whatever he was looking for, going back and forth between searching and inspecting one of the little pink pills. It was a few minutes before Eddie heard him mutter, “What the fuck…”

“What?” Eddie asked.

Richie swiveled around in his chair toward the bed, looking displeasingly at a pink pill between his fingers. “Did you take this shit with the xanax?”

“No, Lenny told me not to or I could die.”

Richie’s eyes widened incredulously at Eddie. “He said you could _die_ and you still bought these fucking things?”

“Richie…”

Richie took a deep breath, obviously trying to not appear as angry as he was, as to not upset Eddie in what was clearly a very fragile state. At this point, he probably realized overreacting would not be helpful, and he was trying to handle this casually. “Just… OK, so apparently this pill…” He turned back towards the screen, adjusting his glasses. “Well, it _does_ kind of work like xanax, but stronger. They're both, uh, benzo... somethings. It’s for anxiety, but can cause… extreme drowsiness, mood issues,” (Eddie did not miss the side glance Richie gave him at this), “…dizziness, and if taken with certain other medications or alcohol – ” Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, “ – can cause shortness of breath or _death_.” Richie sighed heavily, closing his eyes tight and shaking his head. Eddie did not know what to say and just waited shamefully for Richie to turn back and speak to him, eyes tired and concerned. “Eds… I need you to answer this next question honestly, OK?”

Some kind of noise came out of Eddie’s mouth when it opened, like the words got stuck in his throat as he tried to speak. He cleared his throat, but simply nodded in return, watching as Richie slowly rolled his chair over to the bed and took Eddie’s hand in both of his. His voice was soft when he spoke again.

“Do you think about wanting to kill yourself again?”

Surprisingly, Eddie’s eyes stayed dry, but it felt as if someone lit something on fire in his stomach, the burning sensation reaching all the way up to his throat. Afraid that it would set something off if he opened his mouth, he nodded again. The simply action changed Richie’s expression from concerned to that of a broken man, and Eddie’s heart wretched as Richie’s eyes filled with tears. He leaned forward, throwing his arm around Richie’s neck, feeling Richie reciprocate immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie sobbed dryly. “I don’t want to do this to you. I don’t _want_ to feel like this, but I do and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Eddie let out another sob as Richie squeezed him tighter, like he was trying to push out all of the depression out of Eddie’s body. The thought was appreciated.

“Jesus, you’re not doing anything _to me_ , Eddie. I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t tell me these things.”

“I’ve been relying on you too much,” Eddie whispered. “I shouldn’t do that to you. I can’t keep using you like a crutch. I know I need to get real help, it’s just… I don’t want to feel crazy.”

Surprisingly, he felt Richie chuckle under him. “And taking street drugs helps with that?”

Eddie sighed. “I know. That was stupid; like, really fucking stupid. I was just trying to keep things under control on my own terms.”

Richie pulled back, his face still wet with tears, but his expression oddly amused. “Eddie, have I ever been grounded?”

Eddie blinked at him, confused. “Well, yeah.”

“Right. Was my mother anything like yours?”

OK, Eddie saw where this was going. “No…”

“But she still grounded me sometimes. It was a pain in the ass, but I still needed discipline. There’s a balance with everything, and we need to find yours. Sonia is gone; you don’t need to rebel against everything like that anymore. Eddie, do you think I would’ve made it through high school if I hadn’t started taking my medicine?”

“Your med – ?” Eddie started to ask before it dawned on him. Richie _was_ on medication in high school, and even was until a couple years ago. His grades were slipping terribly after the summer with Pennywise and ending middle school, and his hyperactivity was through the roof until he started seeing a doctor that his dad recommended. For a couple months, Richie was completely different and zonked out like a zombie before balancing out to a pretty healthy level of comedian and functioning human being. Sure enough, Richie brought his grades up and stayed focused in his classes, but the topic of his new medicine was so brief, his progress so gradual that they never real thought about it. “Shit, Richie. I completely forgot about that.”

“Honestly, I probably still need medication,” Richie mused. “But after taking it for so long and getting some therapeutic pointers from the doctor, I got better. It took me forever to get stuff that worked right for me. So maybe instead of ‘Yes sir’ing your doctor to death, you straight up tell him, ‘No, I need something else, this isn’t working right for me.’ Trust me, it _sucks_ having ADHD and knowing I need something to combat it, whether it’s medicine or therapy or whatever. But it’s still part of me, and I still have to manage it. I know it’s not nearly as debilitating as what you’re going through,” he added ruefully. “But the principle still applies.”

“Yeah, no, that makes sense,” Eddie agreed. He pulled his hand away from Richie’s neck to wipe the tears off of Richie’s face. Richie reached up to hold Eddie’s hand against his cheek, smiling gently at him.

“Promise you’ll work with me, Eds. No more hiding shit, please. Don’t worry about how upset you think I’m going to be,” he added, which was a good thing, because that’s exactly what Eddie was thinking.

“The same needs to go for you,” Eddie countered. When Richie looked confused, he continued, “Stop hiding things because you think they’ll make me upset. Like, Stan staying here to spy on me, the tour you turned down… It’s not going to make me better by keeping me in the dark.”

“That’s fair,” Richie said. “Especially if this is going to be a lifelong thing; I can’t exactly protect you from bad news your whole life.”

Eddie felt the panic rising again in his chest and his eyes widening at Richie. “Y-you really think I’m going to be like this forever?” he stammered, his throat going dry as he spoke.

“Hey, hey,” Richie whispered, lifting a hand to Eddie’s face, keeping it firm but gentle against his cheek. “It’s not always going to be this bad, love. But it… it probably is going to be ongoing. That’s why you can’t fight it by doing this stupid shit and trying to get quick fixes. You – no, _we_ will figure out how to take care of it. We’ll take care of it every day; like brushing your teeth – ”

“Oh my god,” Eddie groaned. “You sound like Wentworth.”

“And now I have excellent dental care,” Richie chuckled. He gasped, causing Eddie to startle a little. “Oh shit, mom! I gotta let her know you’re OK, shit.” Richie pushed himself off the computer chair to turn the internet off, realizing it was blocking anyone from calling the house phone; Maggie very well could’ve been calling this entire time Richie was connected. Eddie watched him while trying to take slow, deep breaths and digest their conversation. It wasn’t as bad as Eddie thought it would be. That seemed to be one of his biggest issues in day-to-day life, always either overestimating or underestimating situations before him and then either jumping into a situation he wasn’t prepared for or avoiding something that could have been easily handled.

What Richie said about this being part of him now… that was scary. It was a daunting thought, having to live like this forever, and really, that’s probably why he was having those deep seeded feelings of wanting to end it all entirely, because sometimes it just feels too debilitating. But he had Richie. And Eddie wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking this was going to be some kind of fairy tale where his knight in shining armor would be the end-all to his bullshit, but Richie was going to help him learn to deal with it whenever Richie couldn’t be there.

“Hey,” Richie said, leaning down to run a hand through Eddie’s hair. “You want to come out and talk to mom with me?”

Oh, boy. “She’s going to be freaking out, isn’t she?”

“Obviously.”

Eddie took a deep breath before getting up, hugging Richie around the middle and lifting up to his tippy toes to kiss him. If it was true that he and this disease were knotted together for life, Eddie was so thankful to be surrounded by such love and support; he was truly lucky. “All right. Let’s go call mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going over my outline/notes, this might end up being longer than the first story! Fingers crossed you find it just as enjoyable!  
> Have a good rest of the weekend everyone!
> 
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)
> 
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	8. They should issue medals along with the steady stream of medication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was quick! But I was so excited for this chapter for a couple reasons, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks again for the kudos and love, it's always appreciated!
> 
> TW: further talk about mental illness and suicidal ideations

Apparently, Eddie’s psychiatrist had fucking died two months ago.

Well, shit.

Eddie probably would’ve known that had he been actually coming in for his appointments.

“I can take you as a walk-in with another clinician on staff,” the receptionist said apologetically. “You can make an appointment or you can wait, but the appointment might an hour either way.”

“How come?” Eddie asked.

“It’s time for your annual evaluation,” she said, looking over his chart. “It might be especially good to do, since you say you haven’t been on the medication in a while…”

“You can go home if you want,” Eddie was telling Richie after signing in and sitting down. “I don’t want you to waste your whole day here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Richie said, smiling gently at him. Eddie could tell he wanted to put an arm around him, show some sort of physical affection that Eddie was too paranoid about right now. He was pretty sure Richie sat on his right side to fight the urge to hold Eddie’s hand. “I took off work tonight, anyway.”

“Richie,” Eddie groaned, but Richie held a hand up to silence him.

“Eddie, it’s just one night. The depraved lunatics up at 2 A.M. on in the middle of the week can handle one night with me off the air. I should be putting more focus in at the club, anyway.”

“Hey, I’m one of those depraved lunatics that listen to you, dickwad. Do you think Greg can scramble you up another tour, soon?”

“Probably, he’s a pretty good agent,” Richie assured him. “I’ll probably have to do a couple dive-bar tours for a bit before I get offered a sick deal like that again, though. Which is not your fault!” he added hastily as Eddie started to pout. “That was _my_ decision, so don’t put that shit on yourself.”

“OK,” Eddie said quietly, but still felt terrible.

“How was the meeting today?” Richie asked carefully.

Eddie bit his lip. “I missed most of it. I started getting a panic attack like half way through… Tom was just running it like he would any other anti-harassment meeting, but… I could just feel the other guys’ eyes on me and hear them chuckling and making little comments in the back.”

“Fucking dicks,” Richie muttered.

Eddie nodded. “Nothing I can do about it though. They’re still assholes to the one woman we have on staff, so I can’t expect them to change their opinions about… you know.”

He felt Richie scoot a little closer in his chair so their sides were pressing. “How are you feeling about it now?” Richie asked softly.

“I’m OK,” Eddie said nervously. “Except… I may have almost gotten fired.”

“What? Why?”

Eddie took a deep breath. “One of the actuaries – Kevin I think – he made a comment to me after the meeting was over. I don’t even remember what he said that pissed me off so much, but I just saw red. I got in his face and started… screaming at him.”

“Oh shit,” Richie whispered. “I mean, you look OK, he didn’t hurt you, right?”

Eddie could feel his limbs start to shake thinking back at it. “No, he – I was fine. He grabbed me by the throat, but Tom stepped in and took us both aside. He sent Kevin to HR and sat me down in his office to calm down. He said he understood my frustrations, but he couldn’t have me provoking anyone in the work place so it can’t happen again.”

Eddie had mixed feelings about Tom. Despite the usual hostile atmosphere in most office environments in the financial district, Tom was quite progressive and open. He had been quite insistent that Eddie bring his “wife” to the holiday parties, before Eddie explained that he wasn’t married, but he didn’t feel comfortable bringing his ‘partner’ to the work place. Tom seemed to understand, making Eddie feel grateful. Unfortunately, Tom also accidentally outted Eddie by absentmindedly telling Eddie he should take his _boyfriend_ to see the new Rush Hour movie. Eddie couldn’t entirely blame Tom for the slip up, but it made working there uncomfortable.

After nearly an hour of just sitting there, Eddie was finally called to the back, with Richie towing along right behind him.

“Why do they need to do all this?” Richie asked as Eddie got his vitals taken by a nurse.

“TO monitor certain changes the medication might be causing,” the nurse told him. “High blood pressure, weight loss or gain; they’re all important in figuring out which medications are best for the patient. Oh, honey, your blood pressure is spiking; please relax.”

“Sorry,” Eddie grumbled. “It’s always high. I’m in a constant state of stress.”

She smiled sweetly at him and redid his reading after asking him to take a few deep breaths. It lowered a little bit, and she took Eddie back to meet with a new psychiatrist, Dr. Farah.

“Hello, Eddie,” Dr. Farah said kindly, standing up to shake his hand. She was taller than Eddie, which caused him to sigh internally. “You are?” she asked, addressing Richie.

“Boyfriend,” Richie said unashamedly, reaching out to shake her hand. Eddie watched her carefully, but she didn’t appear to have a reaction to this. He supposed it was best to make sure whoever he was intrusting in his care didn’t have any problems with same-sex relationships, considering half of his anxiety stemmed from this.

“Eddie, I’m going to be going over a lot of personal details of your life,” Dr. Farah said, sitting down again. “We’re going to go over your history again, your day-to-day life, symptoms you’re experiencing, and check your orientation. Is it OK that your boyfriend is here for this?”

“Yes,” Eddie said immediately. “I trust him with everything.” He felt Richie smile at him from the side.

“Sure thing,” Dr. Farah continued. “And if there’s anything I feel like I might want to ask him, is that OK, too?”

Eddie nodded. Richie reached over and squeezed his hand.

Eddie vaguely remembered most of these questions from the hospital. They really went into detail, and it felt good to retrace the traumas he went through with Richie by his side this time. Unlike the last time, he made sure to bring up… well, not _the clown_ per se, but the terror they had experienced from Derry. It was easy enough to fudge the details on the spot, blaming it on Bowers and leaving out the fact that they _technically_ committed murder against their tormentor.

Richie was also helpful when it came to discussing Eddie’s symptoms. Eddie, of course, knew how he was feeling, but he didn’t realize how goddamn crazy he must have seemed from Richie and Stan’s perspectives. It was good to have both sides, and Eddie didn’t have any disagreements with Richie’s descriptions. Even though his hand was sweaty from nerves, he still held Richie’s hand tight throughout the process. Finally…

“Do you know why Dr. Schaffer disagreed with the hospital about your diagnosis?” Dr. Farah asked curiously.

“No,” Eddie said. “I don’t even know what I was diagnosed with… just that I was suicidal and they gave me medicine.”

Dr. Farah frowned, shaking her head. “Well, Eddie, I want to have full transparency here. The notes from Dr. Worthy at the hospital, as well as another NP and a counselor you worked with all indicate that you had symptoms related to bipolar depression.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, feeling… well, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But he sure didn’t like it.

“It’s not as uncommon as you’d think,” she said. “A lot of people tend to focus on the other side of bipolar, the manic side. It’s not always about being hyper and overly happy. In many cases, the mania can present itself in irritability, frustration, lack of sleep, impulsivity… But the depression can be quite debilitating, it’s not uncommon for those who are bipolar to experience suicidal ideations.”

“OK,” was all Eddie said. He didn’t realize he was shaking again until he felt Richie squeeze his hand tightly, rubbing his thumb along the back of Eddie’s hand.

“And you’re sure you don’t have any plans to commit suicide?” Dr. Farah asked firmly.

“No,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “No plans, just… feelings, I guess.”

“You’ll tell me if you do?” she asked. Eddie nodded. “If it’s off hours, I’ll give you our crisis line. You’re welcome to call them or the number you called last year, whatever you feel most comfortable.”

“OK.” Eddie could feel himself tearing up, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. He kept his hand firmly in Richie’s to keep himself grounded.

“I’m putting in your chart Bipolar II… symptoms of PTSD and generalized anxiety disorder. Do you agree with that diagnosis?”

“You’re the doc, doc,” Eddie said stupidly. He was thankful he didn’t start crying until he left the clinic.

“Hey,” Richie soothed, rubbing Eddie’s back. “All this means is that you have a name now, something to call all this shit you’re dealing with. The meds are completely different too, so maybe they’ll help you better without all the bad side effects?”

“Maybe,” Eddie sniffled, rubbing his nose.

“Can I look?”

Eddie nodded, and watched Richie look at all the new pill bottles they grabbed at the pharmacy before they left the clinic.

“Zyprexa… lexapro… seroquel… they all suggest to take them at night. That’ll probably help with the sleep.”

Help with sleep, they did. The first couple days, Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little loopy, like he was partially tipsy or high, but the poor counselor he called panicking about it assured him it was just from getting used to the medication. Eventually, as she said it would, the feeling wore off. Eddie knew he couldn’t expect anything to change in a short time, but he found just making the small change and the openness with Richie was putting him in better spirits over the next couple weeks. His sleep was starting to improve, and he didn’t feel as super clingy when Richie was away for work.

The Friday before Halloween, Eddie came home from his classes in a relatively good mood, excited for his and Richie’s favorite holiday to commence, setting his backpack and keys on the kitchen counter.

“Eds? That you?”

Richie must have been in bed still; the bedroom door was still closed. “Hey, Rich,” he called back, before suddenly remembering that Patty said she would be with Stanley all night…

“Hey, you wanna come in the bedroom?”

“Sure,” Eddie said.

Eddie quietly undressed, feeling a little proud of himself for his spontaneity, disposing of his clothes on top of his bag on the counter before tiptoeing to the bedroom door. For good measure, Eddie gave himself a couple jerks to at least look impressive when he surprised Richie as opposed to a limp noodle. He grabbed the door handle, briefly pausing to decide whether or not he was going to burst in with a ruckus or sneak onto the bed and pounce Richie, before settling on somewhere in between. Just in case Richie was up, he mustered up what he hoped was a sexy smolder before throwing the door open, his insides all imploding when he was met with not one, but _eight_ pairs of eyes staring at him.

“Well, helloooo gorgeous,” Richie said with a huge stupid grin on his face.

“Damn, Eds!” Mike shouted playfully, throwing a hand up to shield his eyes. “You’re gonna poke someone’s eye out.”

“For fucks sake, Eddie,” Stan groaned, his own hand reaching up to blind Patty beside him.

Eddie was _mortified_ ; he could’ve died right then and there, but something soft hit him in the chest and he immediately shoved it down to hide his dick.

“Why – wha – why – ?!”

“Surprise, I guess,” Bill chuckled from the computer chair.

Eddie took a moment to process the giant “Happy Birthday!” sign that was being held by Bev and Richie behind the bed, the balloons, the presents on the bed, and finally all of the Losers, Patty, and Richie’s sister, Penelope, all red-faced and laughing. It stirred relief and joy somewhere in the pit of Eddie’s stomach where he was still trying to process the utter humiliation that every single one of them just saw his erect dick.

“Still got your socks on, too,” Ben snickered. “Nice.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie muttered; he had not realized that. God, how _embarrassing._ He looked down and realized the cloth he was using to hide himself was in fact a pair of pajama pants. “Can – can you all give me a minute?”

“Yeah, please put those on,” said Bill. “I can still clearly see your ass. Not bad, though,” he added with a wink.

“Oh my god,” Eddie groaned, backing up out of the room enough just to privately put on the pants. Once he secured the drawstring around his waist, he came back in, surely blushing all the way down to his chest. Beverly was still grinning widely at him.

“Good for you, Eds,” she said, winking. “Now I know what Richie’s bragging about all the time.”

“Not that I’m not happy to see all of you,” Eddie said, his cheeks burning hotter at Beverly’s comment. “But why are you hiding in the bedroom?”

“Give us time to surprise you when you came home,” said Bill. “And surprise you we did... We were gonna shout ‘surprise!’, but I think we all were caught a little off guard.”

“My birthday isn’t for another week.”

“You think we weren’t going to miss Richie’s invitation to experience Halloween in the city?” Penelope said as she was sitting on one of the corners of the bed.

“What better way to enjoy a Halloween Saturday?” Richie offered. “It won’t happen again for more than a decade and we’ll be all old and shit.”

“Plus it’s your favorite holiday,” Bill said, getting up and giving Eddie a proper hug. Fuck, Eddie missed these guys a lot. Now that his initial embarrassment was residing, he was feeling really ecstatic.

“Wait a minute,” he heard Beverly say before he felt her tugging on his arm.

“Oh,” Eddie said dumbly. “Yeah, I guess you never got a chance to see them.”

Beverly was looking at the large red V Eddie had tattooed on the back of his forearm. Honestly, it had surprised him too when he agreed to get his first tattoo with Richie (each other’s initials both in matching serif fonts), since Eddie kept insisting on finding some way to mark the permanency of their relationship when they couldn’t get married. He usually forgot he had them until someone pointed them out. The Losers had agreed shortly after departing Maine that they’d eventually get matching tattoos, but they never got the chance to decide what it would be.

“I love how it feels like a theme; all letters,” she said before tracing the little R on Eddie’s chest over his heart. “This is so cute; do you have one, Richie?”

“Of course,” Richie said proudly, pulling his collar down to expose his E tattoo in the same spot.

“Just these two are letters,” Eddie said. There was no way he’d get into how deep it was for him at this exact moment, but the V was more of a reminder for him to remember who he had, that he was someone’s lover and his lover was waiting for him to come home every day. He probably should have looked at it more often. But he showed Bev a little tattoo he had just below the scars under his shoulder on his right side, a cute little ghost with the number 13 he got for a Friday the 13th special, since his dad was born on Friday the 13th (Eddie left out the bit that he had the apparent ability to see his father’s ghost sometimes, since Patty would likely run for the hills).

“Sooo, letters and numbers,” Ben said with a smile.

Beverly gasped. “Oh! Eddie, this is perfect!”

“What?”

“Our group tattoo!” she said, looking back to the rest of the group, though mainly addressing the Losers. “Why don’t we just get the number 7?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Stan mused, surprising Eddie a little, since he never thought Stan would actually go through with it. “A small one, preferably.”

“So we’re just going to turn down my idea of the giant beaver and clown portraits on our backs?” Richie asked, amusing no one but himself.

“I like Eddie’s font,” Bill said admiringly. “It’s like the one on my typewriter.”

“You guys should use roman numerals,” Patty suggested, coming around and sitting on the edge of the bed near the door. “That would look really nice.”

“That would look nice,” Eddie agreed, smiling at her. “Thanks, Patty.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Beverly was squealing. “I’m so excited now! This is perfect! We should get them while we’re here!”

“OK, slow down, love,” Ben chuckled, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“It’s a nice idea,” Mike said. “We can think about it. We’ll let Eddie decide, since we’re here to celebrate _his_ birthday and all.”

“I got a great guy,” Richie said, smirking at Ben. “He’s great with typography. He even tattooed your name on my ass for me.”

“Ha ha,” Ben deadpanned, rolling his eyes, but Eddie looked at Ben very seriously.

“Ben, he’s not joking.”

Ben’s smile faltered a little. “Bullshit.”

“Yeah, Haystack,” Richie grinned. “I’ve had your name on my ass for like over a year now.”

Stan sighed, looking over at Ben with absolute sincerity. “I’m afraid to say he’s telling the truth. Your name is on his ass.”

Beverly let out a little giggle, looking up at Ben’s horrified face. “I don’t believe it.”

“Twenty bucks, big man,” said Richie. “Your name; my ass.”

Ben contemplated for a moment before saying, “Deal.”

“Wait,” Penny said abruptly, getting up and heading out of the room. “I can’t be here to see Richie pulling his pants down.”

Eddie bit his inner cheeks to suppress the grin trying to stretch across his face, briefly meeting Stan’s eyes before watching the other Losers craning around to watch Richie drop his pants. He yanked them down just enough to expose the part of his skin that displayed the ink. Sure enough, in bold black letters, read the words ‘ ** _your name_** ’ on Richie’s left ass cheek.

“I hate you,” Ben grumbled. “I fucking hate you so much.”

“I think you secretly wanted the excuse to check my ass out, Haystack.”

“That is fucking hysterical,” said Bill.

“Eddie – Stan – why did you two allow this?” Mike asked, shaking in silent laughter.

“Seriously, I can’t believe you paid money for that,” said Ben.

“You know how many meals he’s bought us since getting that thing?” Stan said.

“Yeah, it pretty much paid for itself after one night at a college party,” Eddie laughed. “All he does it go up to strangers and says hell bet twenty bucks he has ‘your name’ tattooed on his ass, and they fall for it every time.”

“And another twenty tonight,” grinned Richie, buttoning his jeans back up and holding his hand out. “Pay up, my dude.”

“Suck my dick, Richie,” Ben said, slapping cash in his hands, but even he couldn’t help but smirk.

“I’ll use it for the pizza,” Richie said with a wink. “ _Real_ pizza, not that deep dish shit you Neanderthals are eating in Chicago.”

“Eddie, is it weird looking at that thing when you’re fucking?” Bev asked bluntly.

“Honestly, there’s weirder shit that goes on when Richie gets naked, Bev,” Eddie said, smirking at her. She nudged his ribs with her elbow and laughed at the looks on Ben and Stan’s faces with him. Eddie pulled her in for a hug and made his rounds with the rest of them, feeling so goddamn happy to see them all.

Richie ordered some pies while the rest of them helped bring the decorations and presents out for Eddie into the living room. He was so in awe at all of them coming all the way out.

“Where are you all staying?” he asked the group.

“We were going to try to book a room, but Richie said we could all just stay here,” Beverly said, looking around.

It was usually what they did; all hunker down in the apartment. Beverly and Ben usually slept on the pull-out in the living room, and this new couch was much nicer than their old one. Mike was one of the few of them with the patience to sleep in Stan’s bed, with all of his particular bedroom ‘rules,’ and Bill usually had no issues snuggling in with Eddie and Richie, spending the night exchanging stories and talking. But Eddie noticed a small problem; Penelope had been living in California for a couple of years and had apparently flown in with Mike and Bill for the occasion.

“Where’s Penelope going to sleep?”

“She can sleep out in the hall,” Richie said.

“Fuck off,” Penelope rebuked, poking him in the ribs. “Richie, you’re getting _chunky_. How are you still so goddamn skinny and fat at the same time?”

“Eddie likes my love handles, Penny,” Richie scoffed. “You wish you had curves.”

“Eddie is a _jogger_ and a little hunk, and he puts up with _this_?” Penny teased, squeezing Richie’s stomach. Eddie felt himself blush a little, covering his abs with his arm as the other girls eyed him. While under other circumstances he might appreciate the ‘hunk’ comment, he hadn’t been taking care of himself and could feel himself getting _doughy_.

“You are rocking a tight bod, Eds,” Bev said, nudging him again, as if she could feel his self-confidence slipping right then and there.

“Where _are_ you going to sleep, cretin?”

“Well if I sleep at Patty’s…” Stan started to say, but Beverly huffed.

“No! The whole point is for all of us to stay together!”

“Well, Patty can still stay, but we’ve got three beds, four couples, and a very upset author,” Mike chuckled before completely freezing.

“Four couples?” Richie said quietly, narrowing his eyes at Mike. “Who’s the fourth?”

“Uh,” was all Mike got out before Penny rolled her eyes.

“Me and Mike, Richard.”

Eddie tried his best not to laugh at the series of emotions that ran across Richie’s face in the span of just a few seconds. Mike was trying _very_ hard to not make eye contact with anyone, especially Richie, whose face was starting to twitch between various looks of fury, confusion, and shock.

“Aw, Mike,” Beverly cooed, reaching out to gently punch his arm. “How long has this been going on?”

Mike made some guttural noise while trying to remember how to use his vocal chords, still avoiding looking at Richie before mumbling, “A coup – a couple m-months now…”

“I-i-is th-th-that so, Mike?” Bill teased, echoing his own old stutter. “I think it’s been about since Christmas, right? That’s _awfully_ longer than a couple of months.”

“How about this,” Beverly said. “Us girls can sleep on the pull-out for the weekend. You boys figure out amongst yourselves which one gets stuck with Richie and Eddie, and the rest of you sleep with Stan.”

“Ben,” Stan said immediately. “I want Ben and Mike. Bill kicks in his sleep.”

“Perfect!” Bev said brightly, throwing her arm around Patty’s shoulders. “I have heard such great things about you already, Patty!”

“Oh good,” Patty laughed, blushing a little. “I’m sure sleeping together will get us real acquainted.”

“Hey!” Penelope said, snapping her fingers up at Richie’s face. “Are you still with us, space cadet?”

Richie took a deep breath, placing a hand on his sister’s shoulders and looking her straight in the eye with an earnest expression on his face. “Penny… I could not… be happier that you are dating one of my best friends.”

Mike sunk down like a deflating balloon in relief, chuckling sheepishly. Penelope grinned up at Richie. “Oh, really?”

“Penny, if I have friends I wouldn’t trust with my sister, what the fuck is that supposed to say about me as a person?” He turned and held his arms out, gesturing Mike over. “Mikey, come gimme a hug. You’re family now.”

Eddie grinned up at Richie, who pulled Mike in for a tight hug. Besides Mike, he may have been the only one close enough to hear Richie whisper, “Do anything stupid, she’ll kill you before I get a chance to, buddy.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Mike chuckled back, pulling away and pulling Eddie a big, warm hug. “We’re in for a wild ride with the Tozier’s, Kaspbrak.”

“God, what have we done?” Eddie teased, pulling away and seeing Richie smiling down at him with absolute warm affection. Halloween was going to be a riot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so EXCITED to have the Losers back!
> 
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)
> 
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	9. It’s so weird to know you’re crazy and not be able to do anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowowow. So This Was Always Your Home has hit 200 kudos and almost 3000 hits now; this post nearing 500? Crazy! Thank you all for stopping by and dropping the love! I don't expect as much traffic on this one, but I do appreciate the feedback! <3
> 
> I'm kinda dying inside because things I want to be dropped so I can watch them are not available and seem to be taking even longer during Quarantine days. I haven't seen a single thing from any IT cast since IANOWT. 
> 
> As always, please stay safe and enjoy!
> 
> TW: honestly not much, except brief mentions of suicidal attempts mentioned previously, legal adult drinking, and a fun new rendition of the "I want that twink obliterated" tag.

Having all of the Losers in their apartment brought in an energy Eddie hadn’t felt in a long time. It was sure to be a combination of their presence and his medications, and was thankful he had opened up to Richie in time for this. Richie promised him a romantic evening just the two of them on his actual birthday, so they were going to, as Richie phrased it “party hard, sober, and responsibly.”

While Richie and Bill passionately argued over theories of the new Star Wars prequel coming out the following summer, Eddie found himself briefly alone with Beverly in the kitchen while she poured herself some Pepsi.

“How’s the fashion industry, Marsh?”

Bev let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “You mean retail? It isn’t so much fashion as it is cashiering.”

“You’ve got your foot in the door, though,” Eddie said encouragingly. “You’ve finished school, you’ve got a great portfolio; everything else from now on is just experience to add to your resume.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she sighed, lightly sipping her drink. “Ben is about to vomit any time I mention his exams coming up in December.”

“He’ll do great. You’ll both do great.” Honestly, they were all doing pretty well for themselves. Mike was substitute teaching while studying for his history certifications so he can become a full-time instructor for high schoolers; he hoped to one day go to grad school at least part-time so he could do research for a university. Bill was working as an editor for one of his old professors while working on his first real novel that he would read over with Eddie over the phone occasionally for feedback. Stan had landed himself a position quickly as a part-time junior accountant for a company in the same building as Eddie’s internship. And of course, Richie always had a blast at work, whether he was making one person laugh or one hundred, and had done some decent venues over the last few months thanks to Greg. But then there was Eddie…

“I really hate still being in school,” he muttered quietly to Bev. “I really fucked last year up.”

“Your health is more important than anything else, Eddie,” Beverly said soothingly. “Besides, it’s only a year; there’s no rush.”

“I just feel so far behind everyone else,” Eddie admitted. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to him, feeling behind the others. Technically, he was the second oldest out of all of them after Mike, but he always felt like the baby of the group.

“You’ll get there, Eddie,” Beverly assured him. She bit her lip and set her cup down carefully on the counter behind her, looking at him very seriously. “Listen… about our phone call a few weeks ago – I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

 _A little late for that, Ms. Marsh_. “It’s not like I was expecting anything less macabre. You saw us all die – there can’t be too many pleasant ways for that to happen.”

“It just caught me so off guard that I wasn’t even thinking about how that would sound to you,” she said sincerely. “But it wasn’t like that. When I was looking into the Deadlights… I saw all of us die, but… I saw us all kill ourselves.”

“Really?” Eddie whispered. There was tightness in his chest that didn’t feel quite like anxiety.

“Yeah,” Beverly said quietly, her eyes staring absently at the floor. “It was like we all went mad or something. But I don’t think it matters now that we know It’s dead. I think it only would’ve happened if it was still alive somehow and we never went back, you know? We were the only ones that touched it and got away. Could you imagine having gone through all of that and not even know _why_ we all were fucked up? Or even remember each other?”

That was a morbid thought that Eddie really didn’t want to dwell on, feeling his insides turning. “How did we all do it?” he asked. His voice was barely more than a whisper, hoping not to startle her. She didn’t look more disturbed though, rather than just the slightest furrow in her brow.

“Stan did it first.”

“Really?” Eddie asked, feeling his heart beat just a little harder in his chest. He thought about the conversation he had had with Stan out on the stoop, how Stan had admitted wanting to –

“…slit his wrists… in the tub.”

Eddie tried to swallow, but his throat was far too dry. The others knew what Eddie had tried to do, but he made his roommates and Bill promise to hide the gory details of his attempt. If Bev knew…

“Was I next?” he asked a little roughly.

Bev looked up at him curiously. Her eyes were swimming, but she wasn’t quite crying. She didn’t need to answer for Eddie to know he was right.

“How did I do it?”

“Eddie, I…” she sighed, considering this for a moment. Her eyes darted to and from the living room, and she dropped her voice a little bit. “You hanged yourself in a closet.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out automatically, wondering how his legs were possibly strong enough still to hold him up. He didn’t want to push her, but he wanted her to keep going.

“I think that’s all I can talk about this for one night,” she said, dropping her hand and looking down again to pull a cigarette from her pocket.

“Am I a total asshole for bringing this up?”

“No, I don’t blame you for being curious.”

It would be impossible to know for certain what this meant. Stan had very likely not told anyone about his moment in the bathtub besides Eddie, except maybe Richie. And since Eddie had asked them not to, there was no way either of them or Bill had told Beverly how Eddie had tried last year. But Beverly had both of them right on the money, and Eddie wondered if this was some kind of vicious wave rolling through all of them, like some kind of aftershock of their shared trauma in Derry. He looked at all of his friends and the room and the idea of any of them doing these things to themselves, the vivid images he conjured in his head from Bev’s suggestion that they all would kill themselves, made him feel apprehension growing in his gut. But Eddie also supposed that none of them had suspected what he was going to do before it had happened… and they were all their own people with their own secrets that they kept from each other to keep each other sane. Bev may have been done with the conversation for now, but he was pocketing it for another day.

“Um, excuse me Bill, but what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Richie was saying later, standing over the bed. Bill had plopped himself right next to Eddie in the middle of the bed.

“There is no way I’m going to risk you two doing weird shit next to me while I’m sleeping,” Bill argued. “I’m acting as a barrier.”

“We aren’t going to fuck right next to you!” Richie exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “God, that was _one_ time and we _forgot_ you were in the bed with us!”

“Not risking it.”

“What if Richie forgets again and starts humping you in the dark,” Eddie suggested as Richie reluctantly got into the bed next to Bill.

“I will stab him,” Bill deadpanned.

“Halloween weekend and I can’t even snuggle my man,” Richie pouted.

Eddie grinned over at Richie, dramatically yawned and wrapped himself around Bill with all his limbs.

“Eddie, what the hell…”

“Bill, I need to spoon someone when I sleep, and you’re blocking me from Richie, so learn to love it.” He lifted his head up briefly. “You won’t mind if I get a boner in my sleep, right?”

“Oh god,” Bill groaned, trying to pry Eddie off of him while Richie guffawed next to them.

Eventually through all their bantering and shifting and protesting, Bill still ended up sleeping in the middle between them. Silence settled over them after Richie turned the lights out, and Eddie couldn’t really help himself snuggling a little closer to Bill until his hand and face were resting on Bill’s shoulder, reminiscent of how they often slept when they were small children. Without a protest, Bill sighed beneath him.

“I’ll allow it.”

Somehow the two of them had ended up both more entangled with Bill than anyone planned, since really Richie and Eddie were both used to snuggling in their sleep and Bill was just _there_ between them _,_ so their bodies just acted on their own as they slept. Bill didn’t mind so much until Richie licked his earlobe. Richie had told Eddie that they were going out to Tarrytown to enjoy the farmers markets, festivals, spooky walks, and some good food. Unfortunately, they woke up to gray skies and a horrible downfall of rain.

“So much for kettlecorn and funnel cake,” Eddie grumbled, leaning against the cold living room window. “We haven’t missed the Sleepy Hollow festival since we got to New York.”

“It was really when I went with you guys,” Beverly sighed behind him.

“We have backup!” Mike said enthusiastically from the couch mattress, which was still set out across the living room, sorting through some VHS tapes. “Horror movies, popcorn, and take-out! Perfect for a rainy day before we all go out later.”

“That does sound nice, too,” Eddie said, smiling over at him.

“Watcha got there, Mike?” Richie asked gleefully, bouncing onto the mattress next to him.

“Let’s see… Halloween – ”

“Classic.”

“ – Texas Chainsaw, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th – ”

“Good, good,” Richie nodded along enthusiastically. “I also have The Thing, Scream – ”

“Scream?”

“It’s newer.”

“ _You_ like a new horror movie?”

“It’s Wes Craven and it’s damn good.”

“We also have Evil Dead – ”

“Nah uh,” Penelope interjected. “I’m not watching anything with rape in it.”

“What, Evil Dead?” Mike asked.

“The tree scene,” Richie explained. “So murder and torture movies are fine – ”

“Richie, you’re a guy!” Penelope argued. “You wouldn’t get it!”

“I have to agree with Penny,” Eddie muttered. As much as he could make fun of and laugh at the fake gore in horror movies, he had always found _those_ scenes extremely uncomfortable. But Richie didn’t argue, simply tossing the Evil Dead tape away from the others and smiled affectionately at Eddie.

“Anything for you, my love.”

They settle on the theme of badass heroines and watch Halloween and Scream, the latter of the two having not been watched by anyone else except their own household. Spending the few hours crammed together on the mattress and floor goofing off, sharing snacks and stories and shoving their faces with Chinese food while the rain beat down on the windows and darkened the apartment into a cozy dull light, rang all the pleasant little nostalgic bells in Eddie’s head. Penelope had always gotten along with the other Losers pretty well, and Patty seemed to fit right in with everyone with no problem. Eventually, Beverly deemed it time to start getting costumes ready.

“Did you all bring stuff to dress up?” Eddie asked.

“They sure did,” Richie beamed. “C’mon, let’s have Beverly help us with our make-up, or we’ll look fucking stupid.”

Beverly dragged Ben behind her into the bedroom with them, pulling out her play make-up kits while Eddie and Richie got dressed behind them, Richie explaining to Beverly how he wanted their faces to look from behind their backs so she could get the right supplies out. When they were all done, Bev and Ben turned around, both with curious looks on their faces.

“So…” Ben started. “Redneck zombies? Is that the look?”

“ _Hell_ billies, Benny boy,” Richie said. He and Eddie had gathered some tattered old flannels, old blue jeans, and cowboy boots from a thrift store and spent some time tearing at them and getting some fake grime and blood on them.

“I love it,” Bev said with a grin. “So _fitting._ ”

“Is it?” Eddie asked.  
“Actually, I probably _should_ warn you,” Richie said. “Just so you’re not thrown off. Rob Zombie is playing at the Roseland and Greg got us in.”  
“Wait, seriously?” Eddie had always known that the Losers were fans of rock music, but he had assumed he simply adopted the taste for the more hardcore metals from just being around Richie. He was sure excited and thrilled, albeit a little scared at the idea of being in a giant crowd, but he didn’t want anyone else to be uncomfortable.

“If I can get Stan thrown in a mosh pit, I’m going to die a happy man someday,” Richie said, grinning wider. He made to sit on the bed and took his glasses off so Beverly could start working on his face.

“I’m super stoked,” Ben said, surprising Eddie even more.  
“Seriously?” Eddie asked again, looking away politely as Ben started to get changed.

“Yeah,” Ben shrugged. “The Hellbilly Deluxe album is sick. What better way to celebrate Halloween than jumping around and head banging to music about death and the devil?”

That was a fair point. 

“Where are we pregaming?” Beverly asked.

“Oh, uh…” Richie started. Eddie didn’t want to get into things with everyone right now, and he knew Richie was going to politely not mention that Eddie would not be drinking with them. “We can head to the Hypnotic. There’s no drink minimum. Patty can’t drink, but they’ll let her in with a stamp. It’s not far from Roseland.”

He was pretty sure Richie couldn’t see him too well with his glasses off, but he still smiled broadly when Richie’s eyes met his own.

“That looks great, Bev,” Eddie said admiringly. “He looks super demented.”

“Wait, so he doesn’t look any different than he normally does?” Beverly scoffed. Richie shoved her away playfully.

“Ha ha, very cute,” Richie said, shoving his glasses back on.

“What are you two doing?” Eddie asked as he took Richie’s place on the bed, looking over to see Ben wearing an old-fashioned suit.

“Vampire mobsters,” Beverly said. “Lots of class; lots of blood.”

“Awesome,” Eddie said before shutting up so Beverly could get his make-up on. The paint Beverly was putting on him was super cold against his skin, and Eddie felt it hardening almost immediately, making his cheeks feel tight. Once he was done, she held up a mirror for him to admire her work, which was just as well done as it was on Richie. Now they both looked gruesome and ghoulish, and for whatever weird reason it looked super hot on Richie.

“Why am I so attracted to you looking so deranged and grotesque?” he said, smirking up at his giant partner.

“I am always grotesque and you love it,” Richie winked.

“All right you guys and gays, get out before you end up seeing boobs,” Bev said, shooing them out.

“Please, you know how many boobs I see every day – ”

“Out, Richie,” Ben sighed, pushing them both out.

Richie chuckled, but he stopped the second he looked down and saw the pouty look on Eddie’s face. “Eds, I was kidding.”

“I know,” Eddie said immediately. “I know; I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get over myself and stop being such a jealous little bitch.”

Richie pulled him into a little quick hug, planting a kiss on top of his head before they headed out of the hallway to take a look at the others and their costumes. Penelope was putting the finishing touches on her and Mike’s Witch Doctor costumes, which looked really fucking sick. Bill seemed to be dressed as some sort of zombie beatnik, which was just so _Bill_ to dress as some old artsy hipster and put a spin on it. Patty was… well… to literally anyone else, the costume would probably be cute and adorably creepy, but…

“Oh good, a clown costume,” Richie deadpanned.

“I didn’t know,” Stan grumbled, far enough from Patty that she couldn’t hear him. “Part of me wants to tell her she looks like a cute little Raggedy Ann, but part of me is internally screaming and I want to punch her in the face.”

“Try to focus on her legs, dude,” Richie reasoned. “It definitely didn’t have legs like that…”

Eddie smacked him in the stomach, but didn’t say anything about Richie’s comment because he just realized Stan was dressed in what he would normally wear to work.

“Stan, what he fuck are you supposed to be?”

“Dave.” He pointed to a sticker over his breast pocket that said, ‘Hi, my name is Dave.’

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, man,” Richie moaned. “Every year with this shit, Stanley. Do you have a creative bone in your body?”

“Nah,” he said, smirking.

Eddie knew Stanley probably would put more effort into his costumes if Richie didn’t make such a big deal over it every year, but Stan loved fucking with him. The bedroom door opened, and Eddie turned to see Beverly and Ben looking absolutely dashing and evil, dressed to the nines, pale and bloody as she promised.

“Well, damn!” Beverly exclaimed. “We all look fantastic! And then Stan…”

Stan flipped her off, but Patty giggled, making her way over and sliding her arm into his. “I think it’s cute.”

“Oh good, a clown,” Ben muttered.

“Yeah, we noticed,” Richie replied.

Just _getting_ uptown was a wild ride, since they had to make their way through the Village Halloween Parade, and it was always a riot to check out the crazy costumes around. They took their time trying to simultaneously travel and admire the celebrations, carefully navigating through the rowdy crowds alone the sidewalks. It ended up being a good thing they left so damn early, since it was an hour or so that they were walking and enjoying the festivities before they even got to the bar Richie had mentioned.

Eddie was sure Richie would refrain from drinking with him like the good, supportive boyfriend he was, until he realized Richie was also doing his best to keep Eddie’s business to himself. So every time someone passed Eddie a shot or ordered him a drink, Richie found a way to sneak it down his own gullet for Eddie while Eddie made the appropriate _I just took a shot_ face. It probably would’ve worked well, but it was nearing time for the concert and Richie definitely needed to slow down; Eddie was thankful Richie was such a big dude, as skinny as he was, or he would’ve been on the floor.

“Richie, you can’t possibly be getting another drink,” Eddie said cautiously at the bar, watching Richie wave down the bartender.

“I’m thirsty,” Richie slurred. “Just a soda, promise.”

“What can I get for you handsome?” the bartender asked when she spotted Richie. Eddie was definitely trying to keep his mind open and not be overtly jealous since Richie was leaning his stupidly long torso across the bar towards the very large-breasted waitress in her angel costume.

“I’d like two cokes please,” Richie practically shouted. The bartender, _Cindy_ , as her name tag read, bold and large on her chest, giggled sweetly at him.

“Going hard tonight, huh? You work at the Broadway Comedy Club, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

 _Ugh_ , Eddie thought, rolling his eyes. _Just pour my fucking coke._

“I’ve seen you a few times,” the bartender continued, filling up a couple of glasses with ice. “You’re fucking funny. I’d love to go see you again,” she added, batting her stupid dumb girl eyes at him while Eddie scowled at her. “Any chance that could happen soon?”

“Yeah, they sell tickets at the kiosk up front,” Richie said dismissively. “You can go any time.”

She giggled while filling up the two glasses finally, not getting the hint. “I get off at 10 tonight,” she said, which is a stupid fucking thing to say, Eddie thought.

“Oh, they have a great line-up at the 11’clock,” Richie gushed, as if she was planning on actually going. “I can’t be there tonight.” He turned to Eddie with a huge grin, pointing his finger straight at him. “I’m going home with this little stud muffin.”

Eddie couldn’t help but tilt his head and smile stupidly back at him. Cindy looked a bit confused, as if it was some weird ‘I’m just hanging with my bro’ comment, until Richie turned back to her and proudly proclaimed, “I’m gonna let that twink obliterate me tonight.”

“Rich!” Eddie gasped, smacking his own face. “Can we get our drinks, please?”

“Sure thing, my sexy little honeycakes. Thanks!” he waved dismissively again to the bartender, who looked thoroughly disappointed and confused as Richie just dropped some cash. Eddie was sure the _love tap_ Richie gave him on the ass as they walked away was just icing on the cake.

“Richie, the only thing you’re getting tonight is an aspirin and glass of water while I tuck you into bed,” Eddie said, both embarrassed and disgustingly pleased.

“Oh, boooo,” Richie said before taking his entire soda down in a few gulps.

“Let’s go find the others,” Eddie said, trying his best to drink his own coke quickly before they got out of dodge.

“Carry me,” Richie said suddenly, dropping his body down onto Eddie’s tiny shoulders.

“Shit, Richie – ” Eddie exclaimed, barely managing to set his glass down on the nearest table before mostly catching Richie’s dead weight. To be fair, he had always been a light dude since he was so skinny, but he _had_ been packing on a few pounds recently and Eddie could feel it. “Richie, I can’t carry you on my back like this, my arm can’t hold you up…”

Thankfully, though grumbling grumpily about it, Richie slid off of Eddie, and he was able to straighten up properly. They walked outside into the chilly air, feeling how oddly it was hitting his face with the make-up caked on. It was still wet out, but had thankfully stopped raining. Eddie looked around anxiously for his friends, not wanting any of them to be wandering around Hell’s Kitchen by themselves, and finally spotted Stan, Patty, Bill, and Beverly at the nearest street corner.

“Mmm, I could use a cigarette,” Richie mumbled.

“No, no, no,” Eddie warned, pushing Richie back inside away from the smoke that could possibly entice him. “Go get the rest of the group while they finish up. I’ll be right here.”

“Fiiiine,” Richie said, but he smiled and ruffled Eddie’s already disastrous hair before they briefly parted.

Strangely, it was only Stan and Beverly that were smoking right now. He never took Patty as a smoker, but Bill usually smoked more regularly than Stan, who was only smoking because he was drunk and likely stole a cigarette from Beverly. Beverly, who Eddie noticed, was standing off a bit a ways from the others, staring off in the opposite direction so Eddie couldn’t see her face.

“We’re gonna start heading up to Roseland,” Eddie told them as he approached.

“Jesus, I forgot what you looked like for a minute, Eds,” laughed Bill, who had done a brief double take when Eddie walked up. “Bev really did a good job with the make-up.”

“You’re not smoking?” Eddie asked.

“Quit,” Bill said proudly, and Eddie felt his own surge of pride, clapping Bill on the shoulder.

“Congrats, buddy. That was a wise choice. Richie’s getting there.”

“I’ve never actually been to a concert before,” Patty said meekly.

“Oh boy,” chuckled Eddie. “This is definitely gonna be interesting, then. Did Stan warn you it was basically a satanic metal concert?”

Stanley shrugged. “More or less.”

“LET’S GO LOSERS!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, turning around to see Richie waving them over, the rest of their group finally out of the bar. Stan finally ditched his cigarette, throwing his arm around Patty as they followed the group along with Bill. Eddie, on the other hand, stayed back and looked back at Beverly, who was still standing eerily on the corner of the sidewalk, staring out in front of her. He approached her cautiously, staying off to the side to try to see where her eyes were looking. She seemed to be staring off at the street at the end of the block, which was busy and bustling with traffic still compared to the rest of the streets. But the look on her face was what gave Eddie a chill up his spine; she stared blankly, her eyes so still they almost appeared lifeless, like that of a porcelain doll.

“Bev, honey?” Eddie whispered cautiously. “You OK?”

Beverly didn’t startle, but she blinked several times, life and warmth creeping back into her face before she turned and looked over at Eddie. “Huh?”

“What, uh… what are you looking at?”

“No – nothing, just…” she looked up the road again briefly before shaking her head and Eddie could see she was forcing a smile on her face. “Nothing at all, just tired I guess. I need to wake up a little.”

“I’m sure the concert will help,” said Eddie, smiling at her. “You sure you’re all right?”

In that moment, there was something deeply and terribly wrong; a wave of dread flashed over Beverly’s face so intensely reminiscent of the 13-year-old girl she had been once, hiding her face in the corner of a dirty kitchen in Neibolt. It was gone so quickly, Eddie blinked his eyes rapidly as if he had just witnessed an illusion before she was smiling brightly at him again.

“Never better, Eds,” she smirked, rubbing his arm affectionately. “Let’s catch up before those drunk idiots ditch us.”

“Yeah, OK,” Eddie muttered, following shortly behind her. One last time, he looked back down the road, and couldn’t help but feel a little nauseated watching the cars speed past each other along that busy street, like it was triggering a bad memory that didn’t exist yet. He knew it was Halloween. He knew that they were supposed to be having fun. He knew that he had no idea what Bev had to be so frightened of. But Eddie also knew there was a terrible, hot knot at the pit of his stomach since he saw that look flash across Beverly’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)
> 
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	10. It's quite rare to find someone who sees the same world you see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure hope everyone had a lovely weekend! Throwing out another chapter before the week commences. Take care <3
> 
> TW: again, nothing really worth noting in this one except brief mention of suicidal attempts, a little ableist language (idk if I've used this one per chapter before?)

Not many things seemed as out of place as Stanley Uris in full work attire in a Rob Zombie crowd on Halloween. It was made the more hilarious as he drunkenly jumped around with the rest of them, screaming along to lyrics Eddie didn’t realize he knew, but supposed had learned from listening to them with Richie. It was positively delightful, too, to see him dance around with Patty, even if her clown outfit freaked Eddie the fuck out.

“Where’d you hide your arm, dude?” asked some drunk dude waiting for a urinal behind Eddie, craning around to try and see if Eddie’s arm was crammed behind his back or something.

“I thought the costume would look more authentic if I just sawed it off.”

“Sick, dude.”

Richie was waiting for him outside the bathroom, and Eddie could hear _Dracula_ being encored through the speakers from the theater.

“I’m fucking starving. How are you feeling?” Richie asked, running a hand through Eddie’s already disastrously tousled and sweaty hair.

“I could get food,” Eddie beamed, giving Richie a discrete squeeze on his bicep. “Should we get the others?”

“Let ‘em finish up, I told them to look for us across the street when they’re ready to head out. Bill is waiting outside.”

Eddie followed Richie closely through the throng, keeping his hand gingerly on Richie’s back as the larger man broke through the crowd, careful not to get trampled. Bill was indeed outside, looking a little worn-out, yawning as they approached.

“You have fun?” he asked Eddie, throwing his arm over Eddie’s shoulder.

“That was a blast,” Eddie assured him. “Richie, you’ll have to thank Greg for me.”

They made their way across the street, where Richie had pointed out a little sandwich shop. The three of them were so lost in chatter, practically shouting over each other since their ears were still buzzing from their hours surrounded by the heavy bass, Eddie ended up tripping over something semi-soft on the side walk. Thankfully, Richie managed to catch him around the middle before he dove into the ground, straightening him up quickly. Eddie looked around behind him to see that the thing he had tripped over was a man’s leg, the owner of said leg sitting against the bricks of the building they were walking beside.

“Sorry,” the man mumbled, pulling his leg in towards his chest. He had a tarp over his shoulders, the clothes underneath tattered and inappropriate for the cold, rainy weather. Beside him was a cardboard sign that’s letters were unintelligible from being soaked from the earlier downpour.

“No, my bad,” Eddie sputtered, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “I don’t – I don’t have any change,” he added dumbly.

“S’OK,” the man grumbled, very briefly smiling before his face fell again.

Richie seemed to sense Eddie’s embarrassment and urgent self-obligation, because then he said, “Are you hungry? We’re getting sandwiches from the shop if you want to come in with us.”

Bill looked slightly uncomfortable at the idea of this stranger following them inside, but Eddie felt the corners of his lips tug into a smile as the man offered his appreciation and stood up. _This is a good idea,_ Eddie thought. He had no idea why, but it felt like one.

“Thank you,” the man said softly as he followed along. The light caught his face, and Eddie could see his features more clearly; he was much younger than Eddie had assumed, maybe around their age, and it made him feel incredibly sad. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie immediately started cackling, startling the Other Eddie a little bit. “I’m also Eddie. Sorry.”

Other Eddie took some coaxing to eventually give his sandwich order to Richie because a) he was a little embarrassed by the act of kindness and b) he appeared to believe the sandwiches might be poisoned.

“I tell you what,” Richie offered. “I’ll get the same sandwich, and we’ll go half on both so you can see me eat it first, deal? If I die, just throw it out.”

Other Eddie considered that for a moment and took Richie up on the deal before shuffling off to the other end of the counter.

“How are you so good at dealing with crazy people?” Eddie asked him quietly.

“Don’t call him that, Eds,” Richie said sincerely, squeezing his shoulder gently. It took Eddie off guard for a second, but he realized it was rather rude of him, considering the man did seem very mentally ill as they saw him mumbling to himself, and it was not something the man could help at all. Eddie took in a deep breath and walked over to the Other Eddie, who was now mumbling something about strings. Eddie approached him with a smile before Other Eddie looked up with wide eyes at him.

“Can you follow the strings?”

“I’m sorry?” Eddie stammered, not sure what he meant at all.

Other Eddie shook his head in frustration. “I think the strings are too close together, things feel really fucked up around you.”

“Oh, OK,” Eddie said, despite having been given no explanation to that whatsoever. “What, uh… what do you usually do about the – the strings?”

“You know, I thought I changed the future once,” Other Eddie said abruptly, and Eddie tried to reel his brain into what he was going off about. “I thought it would fix it, I pulled the strings, but I didn’t realize,” he stopped to give a creepy, uncomfortable laugh. “The strings are _infinite_. They don’t stop. They just loop around and around forever.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess they do that, huh,” Eddie replied politely.

When he looked up again, Other Eddie was staring into him in such a way that made him feel frozen. It was like somehow his eyes were boring into his soul and it made his insides turn cold.

“Breaking the string doesn’t stop it, man. You’re gonna get vacuumed right back in. They keep going, no matter what.”

Eddie blinked. “If we made one change, we can make others though, right?” he asked without thinking. He didn’t even mean to speak, but his lips had moved on their own accord.

For whatever reason, Other Eddie sniffed harshly, like he was trying to take in Eddie’s scent. “Did you get lost in Them?”

“No. My friend Beverly did.” _Wait, what?_

Other Eddie seemed to consider this carefully. “That might be it then, man. Once it’s Seen, it becomes truth.”

“Even if we destroyed It after? What then?”

The other man shook his head wildly again, pressing his palm into his forehead as it the conversation was causing him pain. “I don’t know, man, I don’t know… something that big doesn’t disappear without leaving an imprint behind. You’ve got the essence, man, you can feel it.”

The gulp Eddie took sounded like a gunshot against his eardrums through his throat. “E-essence?”

“I can smell it on you, man,” Other Eddie said. “You gotta be careful walking around like that. Your Shine can get you in trouble. But maybe you can use it to fix the strings.”

Eddie opened his mouth, about to ask what the fuck a Shine was, but he was taken out of his weird trance when a girl dropped several sandwich baskets on the counter in front of them.

“Two meatball parms, an Italian, and one tuna melt.”

“Th-thank you,” Eddie stammered at her, helping Other Eddie grab the sandwiches to bring them over to a little table Richie and Bill were sitting at against the window. There were only the two seats with barely any surface area to eat off of, but Other Eddie had requested to take his food to go.

“Here, hold on,” Richie said, opening up both of the meatball sandwiches, taking half off each. “Gotta make sure I don’t let you leave here without proper precautions.”

As promised, Richie took a bite into each of the halves of his sandwich while Other Eddie watched, assuring him that the sandwiches were likely safe to consume in his own time. He thanked Richie a few times as he gathered his own halves, Richie waving him off. “Don’t mention it, man. Take care of yourself.”

Other Eddie looked back, giving Eddie that same severe look that made his pulse pound more loudly in his own ears. “We Shiners gotta look out for each other. Take care, man.” With that, he thanked Richie again and shuffled out of the sandwich shop, leaving Eddie feeling disoriented.

“Sit down, love,” Richie said, patting his lap with a mouthful of meatball.

“What the fuck was he going off about?” Bill asked Eddie as he as sat himself on one of Richie’s thighs, somehow able to fit comfortably on just the one.

“I don’t… I don’t really know,” Eddie said. But that wasn’t true. He was starting to feel sick; he had lost all appetite for his sandwich, and felt a little guilty that Richie had bought it for him as he pushed the Italian further away from him. “Can I take this home to eat, ‘Chee?”

“Sure thing,” Richie said, rubbing Eddie’s back soothingly. It helped spread warmth back into Eddie’s bones, despite his continued unease.

Eddie looked out the window and saw a lot of the crowd from the concert starting to disperse from the theater, but no signs of any of their friends. Bill must have noticed, because then he said, “They said they’d meet us back at your place.”

“They did? I guess we’re done for the night?” Eddie laughed.

“Sort of,” Bill smirked.

“What’s that mean?” Eddie asked.

Before Bill could answer, Richie squeezed Eddie’s knee affectionately, smiling at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. But he was worried; not about whatever thing the two of them were being cryptic about, but the weird fucking shit he had just talked about with Other Eddie. He had never heard of that before, the Shine, but he knew what Other Eddie was referring to when he spoke of his _essence_. Those weird feelings Eddie got in his gut, his ability to navigate through any space and sense where he was going, to feel danger coming, to speak to his dead father…

A few of those things seemed to be broken now for some time. He desperately missed seeing his dad, but he also knew it was a good thing for him to accept whether it came back or not, because death was something permanent and he was extremely privileged to have a connection like that, if it was even remotely appropriate. But this guy, this random dude he had literally stumbled into on the street, could say he _smelled_ it on Eddie, and said he Shined too. After their conversation now, Eddie wondered how soon he should really start having that conversation with Beverly; probably as soon as he possibly could.

The parade, or perhaps just a large crowd of Halloween celebrators, was still going pretty hard, but the three of them managed to make their way back to the apartment much faster than it had taken them to get uptown. Richie stopped short before their apartment door in the building, holding an arm out to stop Eddie from walking past him. Bill hung back as well, and didn’t seem to question Richie knocking on his own door with a purposeful rhythm, then gesturing for Eddie to go ahead into the apartment. Eddie shot Richie a skeptical look before moving past them both and walking inside the surprisingly dark apartment, taking a few seconds to adjust to the dim light of candles from atop a cake Beverly was holding, her and the rest of his friends starting to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ the moment Eddie stepped inside.

“Oh, Jesus,” he muttered sheepishly, trying to hide his burning face while they all smiled and sang for him. He felt Richie wrap his arms around him from behind as Bill shut the front door, hearing Richie sing softly in his ear. “I hate all of you,” he mumbled when they finished, but couldn’t help but smiling widely before blowing out the two candles indicating him turning 23 in a few days. It did help him forget about the terrifying feeling in his gut.

“I’m 99% sure it’s bad luck to sing happy birthday before the actual birthday,” said Penelope.

Richie scoffed. “Find a way to 8-way call everyone so we can sing on the phone to him next week then.”

They all groaned when Stan flipped the light switch on, but quickly settled into the brightness so they could start digging into the weird rainbow colored multi-eyed monster cake Eddie suspected came from his favorite bakery down the street. Someone turned the radio on to get a lively atmosphere, but they were all pretty tired out from drinking and dancing for the past several hours.

“You guys really didn’t have to do this,” Eddie said. Of course, he was met with several rolling eyes and someone lightly punching him in the side.

“Oh shut the fuck up,” said Stan. “We’re not _not_ going to do something for your birthday.”

“Besides, your birthday is during one of the funnest times of the year,” said Ben.

“Most fun, you mean.”

“Stan, shut up.”

As they all hung out and chatted and listened to Richie recite various tales from his skits and impressions, they took turns washing off their make-ups and changing out of their costumes. A few of them, Eddie included, took brief showers so they all wouldn’t be fighting for them in the morning. Eddie was reluctant to go to bed, especially since they were all leaving Monday morning, and especially because it was Halloween, and especially since it was a Saturday night, but shortly after it passed one in the morning he found himself getting too warm and comfortable on the couch mattress, sinking further into Richie’s chest as his eyelids got heavy. He hadn’t even realized he started dozing off until Richie gently shook him awake.

“We should probably give the girls their bed back,” Richie said softy into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie nodded weakly, stretching widely as he got up to make his rounds of thank you’s and hugs to his friends in the living room. Bill had already made himself a lump on the bed when they entered the bedroom, right in the middle of the mattress as he did the night before. Richie sat on his edge of the bed to change his shirt and Eddie sauntered over to put himself on Richie’s lap, burying his face into his neck and feeling Richie chuckle under him.

“You feeling all right, little love?” he whispered, rubbing Eddie’s back.

“Mmm,” Eddie hummed into Richie’s neck. Taking his medicine was probably the other culprit in his sleepiness, and it was making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Of course, being held by Richie usually elicited this feeling, too. “Thanks for everything, hun.”

Richie squeezed him around the middle tightly, sighing contentedly under him. Eddie usually only used pet names when he was feeling extra sentimental (or being heavily sarcastic, but the former was definitely more relevant right now). “Any chance of a little hot n’ heavy now that I’m sobered up?”

Eddie laughed, lifting his head up to meet Richie’s face; he was smiling broadly with a wicked glint in his eye. “I’m not feeling so sober myself right now, Rich; I’m freaking exhausted, like sleep-deprived drunk.”

“You never did eat your sandwich. I got a couple things you can put your mouth on instead – ”

“Ah, yes… washing out the taste of delicious cake with your ass in my face; that’s definitely appealing.”

“I know you love eating me out, you’re so damn enthusiastic each time – ”

“For the love of god,” Bill muttered from under the blankets, making them both jump. “Do you two ever realize you’re not the only two in the room all the time?”

“Sorry, buddy,” Eddie giggled before he could help it.

“Billy boy, if you get yourself a lover half as sexy as my Eds, you’ll understand the temptation to get your hands and mouth on them every second you can.”

Eddie couldn’t see Bill behind Richie’s head, but he saw the pillow hit the back of it a second later and making him decide it was probably time to actually sleep, giving Richie a kiss before getting off of his lap.

“Please do not get in next to me until your boner is gone,” Bill grumbled as Eddie slid under the covers next to him.

“I don’t have a boner,” Eddie lied, turning to face the opposite direction of Bill to hide it.

Unlike the night before, there wasn’t any banter or long talks, and they all quickly fell into a heavy sleep. As he slept, Eddie dreamt he was sitting on the beach late at night. Even in his dream, he felt sleepy and dazed, staring off at the black waves breaking and washing onto the dark sand several feet before him, all of it only illuminated by the full moon’s light hanging above him in the sky. His eyes were straining and tired, and he took a few sips from a bottle in his hand – his right hand, which felt strange and shouldn’t be there – feeling the alcohol burning all the way down his throat. He drank until the bottle was emptied, tossing it behind him roughly and sighing into the breeze blowing into his face, tasting the salt and sand as the wind brushed the tip of his tongue. He widened his eyes trying to burn the image of the sea there before him into his mind one last time before his eyelids fluttered shut, his back then hitting the ground beneath him.

But he couldn’t remember the dream in the morning.

“Hey Bev, you want to walk downstairs to the laundry room with me?”

“Eddie, are you seriously doing laundry right now?” Richie scoffed from the mattress in the living room.

Eddie shrugged. “I need socks and shit for school tomorrow.”

“I could take a walk,” Bev said, getting up to stretch. “Can I smoke?”

“Sure,” Eddie replied, hooking his hand into the laundry basket handle and throwing it behind him to steady it against his back.

Bev took out her cigarettes outside in the hall, where a familiar friend was waiting for Eddie.

“Aw, whose cat is this?” Bev cooed.

“That’s Ziggy. He’s one of our neighbor’s. Want a lift, Zig?”

Eddie set his basket down and, like he always did, the fluffy orange cat gracefully jumped onto the top of his dirty clothes, settling down and blinking slowly at Eddie with content.

“You need a hand?” Bev asked, watching Eddie pull the basket up again. “Maybe I can just carry him? Is he friendly?”

“Oh, sure… yeah, he’s pretty heavy, thanks.”

Ziggy let Bev pick him up from the laundry, and Eddie suggested she cradle him like a baby, the way Richie usually held him when he picked him up. Thankfully, Beverly seemed more interested in the cat than smoking a cigarette.

“Oh my god, he’s so _thick_ ,” Beverly gushed. “You’re a chunky little muffin, aren’t you?”

Ziggy’s eyes closed slowly, purring loudly in Bev’s arms as she pet him in the elevator.

“You guys think about getting a pet when you’re not living with Stan?” she asked as they rode the elevator down.

“I don’t know,” Eddie confessed. “They’re a lot of work and they’re messy. I like Ziggy, but I don’t have to scoop up his literal shit.”

Bev giggled, rubbing Ziggy under his chin, making him purr even louder. Truthfully, Eddie really liked animals. They never judged him for being small or gay or having one less hand to pet them with. But he could barely take care of himself, let alone another living thing in the house. He had once attempted to garden outside their window with hanging window pots and completely forgot about them after a week, eventually remembering and opening the curtains to see them all wilted and dead.

Beverly was still holding Ziggy when they got into the laundry room in the basement. No one else was there, and Eddie felt it was probably a good a time as any to start the conversation he had been dreading.

“Hey, Bev,” he started cautiously, setting his basket down. “I know this is really hard for you to talk about… but I really need to talk to you about… you know… the Deadlights again.”

She didn’t look up at him, but her brow furrowed while she continued to pet the cat. She remained silent, waiting for Eddie to find a point worth talking about, he assumed, since she probably felt like this conversation had exhausted all of its worth. He took a deep breath, willing himself ready to talk about it. The best way was probably to just outright say it.

“I tried to hang myself last year,” he said. He paused for her reaction, and sure enough her head shot up to look at him, her eyes wide and scared. Eddie really hated being the one to make her feel that way, but right now he felt like he didn’t really have a choice. “I tried to do it in our closet.”

“Eddie…” she whispered, blinking at him tearfully. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I didn’t…”

“I know you didn’t know,” he continued. “But… that’s the thing. You _did_ know… even if you didn’t – know it,” he added stupidly, sure enough that he was being very confusing. He was mentally kicking himself, because he realized he should have talked to Stan first, because even under these circumstances, he wasn’t going to share something Stan had entrusted with him like that. “I think you should talk to Stanley. I know… he was feeling really down a couple years ago. I mean, obviously it wasn’t anything like what happened to me last year, but… I don’t know; it might be worth a shot talking to him and seeing if there’s some sort of pattern. Like, maybe he _did_ at some point try to slit his wrists in the tub or something. You never know.” But Eddie did, and he was right.

“Oh,” Bev said softly, finally looking away from him. She was holding onto Ziggy tightly now, clutching him to her chest like a comforting teddy bear, but the cat didn’t seem to mind.

“I know it’s a lot to digest,” Eddie said, watching her carefully. “But I just… I have this feeling and I can’t really explain it. Trust me, it’s a lot for me to process, too, with everything going on lately, the bipolar diagnosis, all my midterms now – ”

“Bipolar diagnosis?” Bev repeated, looking up at him again suddenly.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, my new doctor diagnosed me as bipolar a few weeks ago. Well, she said they did at the hospital last year, too…”

“Eddie,” Beverly interrupted suddenly, looking extremely earnest. “I told you my mom was bipolar, right?”

“N-no… no, you didn’t,” Eddie stammered, feeling his palm sweat.

“I loved my mom,” she said. “I mean, obviously I loved her. She was amazing and kind and really lovely, the complete opposite of my dad. But she was also very sick when she stopped taking her medicine and her episodes got worse, she – she started getting these weird ideas and… I mean, it didn’t end up well in the end, you know that.”

Eddie felt a surge of panic in his chest. “No, no, Bev,” he said frantically. “I know what I’m saying sounds like, weird. I’m not, like, disputing the diagnosis or – or like saying I don’t have anything wrong with me. I know…” he took a deep breath, because it was always hard for him to admit these things to himself. “I know I have a mental illness. I know I need medicine to be stable, and I’ve been taken it. But, shit Bev, after what we went through? How can you not for a second think that maybe something weird is happening?”

“I think,” Bev said slowly. “We all went through something very traumatic. I also think, after all the stuff you went through… it’s understandable you’d feel bad enough to want to – you know…”

“No, Bev, listen,” Eddie insisted. “Obviously, I know what we went through was fucked up. But maybe that’s the point, maybe… maybe no matter what, the Deadlights showed us what could happen if… if we didn’t take care of ourselves. I mean, you said it yourself; imagine if we all left Derry and forgot each other? But still had all that fucked up shit in our heads, without knowing why, or without each other to lean on? Yeah, I mean we’d probably all go nuts and kill ourselves then, too. But we still went through it, and most of us went through a lot of other crazy shit too…” Eddie immediately thought of his parents, Beverly’s parents, and shit, all of their parents basically except for Richie’s were all pretty damn awful. “Why is it so crazy to think that maybe we should pay attention to the Deadlights? I know there’s something wrong with me, and this is probably something I’m going to be dealing with for the rest of my life, the bipolar and the anxiety and shit... But, what if, if none of us had each other, we’d all end up dead, too? What if what you saw was always going to happen no matter what, unless we did something about it?”

Eddie was panting by the end of his rant, knowing he did probably look pretty damn crazy in front of Bev, probably as crazy as he thought Other Eddie was the night before, before he felt their weird connection. Beverly was dead silent but she looked lost in thought, and Eddie could only hope she was considering his words carefully, that she’d eventually share the things she saw in the Deadlights that day. While she stood there, staring off into nothing, Eddie awkwardly started loading up one of the washing machines to ease the tension in the room, giving Beverly time to think and, well, actually do the thing he had said he had come down here to do in the first place. He pushed his quarters into the slot, turning the machine on, just as Beverly finally spoke again.

“It was Bill… Bill was next.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Always:
> 
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)
> 
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	11. For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying my best to make sure the supernatural elements and the mental health aspect are read clearly to be separate entities, if that makes sense. Mental health should be important to take care of, even when dealing with weird killer clown from outer space shit!
> 
> TW: descriptions of suicide attempts (a wee graphic), panic attack, (consensual) sexual content

“I never saw us in the cistern again,” Beverly mused. “I had seen us there in the Deadlights, all much older. After we killed It, the dreams kept coming every so often, but I never saw us going back. They were just like the images I saw in the Deadlights of us dying, but not as clear. I guess maybe it’s just harder to remember my nightmares when I actively try to forget them. I feel like details changed, little things like clothes or maybe how old we were, it’s hard to tell. But everything else is the same, the way we… did it. And it was always the same rotation every night.”

Stan, Eddie, Bill, Richie, Beverly, Ben, and then Mike. That was the order it always happened in, Bev had said. They were always alone and it was always horrible. Stan had come to meet with them in the hallway so Stan could consensually discuss his near suicide attempt, admitting the small lie he had told Eddie that he did not break any skin, revealing a tiny scar on the inside of his wrist to show that he had been closer than Eddie thought he was to really ending it before wrapping it up and hiding it from he and Richie as it healed. Eddie had felt terrible he had never noticed Stan was that bad, especially since Stan had been trying too hard to help with Eddie. And maybe, Stan was still staying with them because he was looking out for himself, too, and was afraid to be alone. And the more Beverly spoke to them, the more he could _see_ it all, and it truly frightened him. It was a sickening thought to imagine these things happening to just about everyone he loved, and the images were becoming more vivid and grotesque. Stan did not need much convincing to think Eddie had a reason to believe this was something to be worried about. Because usually when Eddie sensed there was something wrong, it was.

Eddie wasn’t dumb enough to think he was better because of this, just because his “attempt” had been completed. After all, he was mental ill and there was no way around that. It just so happened that he was also being plagued by some supernatural echo bouncing off of the demon space clown he had murdered nearly a decade ago; the two things were not mutually exclusive. He still needed to take care of himself and deal with all his other normal life trauma shit, but now he was on a mission to keep that plague from his friends.

“You don’t think we have to let it almost happen, do you?” Stan asked in a shaky whisper. “There’s a concept that once you know the future, it has to happen. Like, Eddie and I were so close… if this thing really is some kind of terrible wave rolling through all of us, do we have to let it pass through in order to make it to the next person?”

 _That_ was a terrifying thought Eddie had not contemplated. The three of them stood in horrified silence. What if it wasn’t as simple as comforting each other through their mutual trauma? What if Stan was right? If he was, that would mean possibly keeping this as a deep, dark secret between the three of them and standing by to save their friends lives one by one at a moment’s notice, waiting for the moment Beverly’s visions _almost_ came true before they stopped it. They could hope, really, that _none_ of them would finish the deed, as Eddie and Stan hadn’t… but was that something they were willing to risk, or was it by sheer coincidence that Stan and Eddie made it alive?

Bill was easy enough; an overdose on the beach, dying with a belly full of pills and liquor. Eddie felt like he had seen this for himself, he could visualize it so well. They could bring Bill to the hospital if it happened. Were you supposed to force someone to throw up if they overdosed? Eddie didn’t truly know. Ben may have been easy, too, if they had to let him drown to perform CPR on him. But he would also be drinking, and they didn’t know how alcohol would affect one’s ability to be revived from that.

The rest of them would not be that neat and clean. In fact, the rest of them were just outright _disgusting_ , as Stan put it (which was something to say for someone that had almost tried to slit his fucking wrists). Mike would shoot himself in some sort of attic – Beverly had envisioned the splatter of brain and blood all over a pile of books on a desk. Where the fuck would Mike even get a gun? He was the gentlest person Eddie had ever met. But he was supposed to be last – they’d worry about that later.

This left Beverly and Richie, who apparently would have no qualms about traumatizing _other_ people with their own deaths. Bev saw herself stepping off of a bridge into traffic on a highway. It made Eddie think about the way she watched the cars pass by on the road the night before, likely replaying the images in her head of whatever car ended up hitting her to end it all. Could they catch her if she jumped, quickly enough to let her complete her part without letting her fall all the way to her death? Richie’s would be much harder, still. He had always been a very all-or-nothing kind of person, so having an all-or-nothing kind of suicide probably suited him, as disturbing as that was to think about. Stepping in front of a speeding train would be quick, messy, and final.

How on earth was Eddie supposed to save him from _that_?

“Do you think it’s a year between each person?” Stan asked. “I had tried just about a year before Eddie did.”

“If that’s true that means Bill is in trouble, like, now,” Eddie said, the implications of his words cutting him sharply as he said them. “Shit… shit, I don’t know if we should tell them or not. You guys are leaving tomorrow morning,” he said, turning to Bev.

“I mean, Bill seems fine right now,” Beverly offered calmly.

“So did Stan,” countered Eddie. “And so did I, to a point. We don’t live with Bill; we don’t know what could be going on with him that he’s hiding.”

Stan rubbed his chin in contemplation for a moment before he spoke. “There’s another thing to consider. All that shit with the clown was practically magical; unworldly, even. How do we know this isn’t just normal trauma, or if the wave is actually some sort of trance or sickness from the Deadlights? It would be hard to tell the difference I guess, since we’re all probably at least a little fucked up… I know it’s going to be hard, but maybe we shouldn’t jinx it. For now, I think… we should keep this quiet until we can figure it out a little better.”

Beverly and Eddie exchanged worried looks, but they could not argue. For now, at least… they would wait.

Ben found a flier in his pocket from the night before about a pop-up ‘Monster Museum’ downtown near their apartment. It had opened for the month of October and was on its last day today. They all used the apartment address to get discounted tickets, with the exception of Patty, who was able to use her school ID. Richie was about to have a goddamn aneurysm of excitement when they got there, gushing at all the old posters and real movie props from classic horror films like The Wolfman. It was easy enough for Eddie to wash away his anxiety when Richie replaced it all with excitement.

“Apparently, Hitchcock spent a good deal of his time on sets antagonizing his actors so they’d be terrified all the time,” Richie was saying, reading one of the informational posters in an exhibit. “I guess you could say he was a _psycho_.”

They finally allowed Eddie to open up his presents over dinner, which included a scratch-off poster to keep track of all the classic films he had seen, a set of wooden puzzles, a book of weird trivia, a ticket stub journal, a utility bracelet, some crazy socks Bev had knit, and some very handy desk organizers Eddie couldn’t wait to use. For some reason, Bill had gotten Eddie a laptop case.

“You don’t have a laptop for work?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

“I’m an intern, they would never give me one,” Eddie giggled, still appreciating the gesture. “Do you want to return it? You can probably shove it somewhere in your bag before you finish packing.”

Bill trilled his lips and shrugged. “Nah. Just hang onto it, I guess.” He threw some socks into his duffle bag on the bed before making his way for the door.

“Where are you going?” Eddie asked.

“Uh, the bathroom?” said Bill, eyes narrowing.

“Oh. Yeah, right – go ahead.”

Richie gave Eddie a strange look from the bed and Bill shook his head as he laughed hollowly. “All right then.”

Eddie leaned back into the bed slowly, trying to time it with Bill’s exit. Once he heard the bathroom door close, he quickly stretched his limbs out in a dramatic yawn and kicked Bill’s duffle bag off the bed, spilling some of its contents.

“Oh, oops,” he stammered. “I got it.”

“Way to go, Eds,” Richie said as Eddie hopped off the bed, turning the bag over to start shoving Bill’s things back in. “He gives you a useless gift and you toss all his shit.”

“Yup,” was all Eddie said. He was on a mini mission. From what Bev had told him, he knew Bill had taken his own prescription pills in her dreams of him dying. This was a totally and completely not cool thing to do and Eddie knew that as he carefully scanned over the contents of Bill’s bag while he shoved his clothes back in. It felt disgusting, a sickly sensation prickling underneath his skin as he threw Bill’s clothes in roughly until he heard the familiar soft rattling he knew to be pills in a bottle somewhere within the bag. Eddie carefully shoved some of Bill’s shirts over and saw two little prescription bottles lying flat on the bottom of the bag. He gingerly rolled them over to better read the labels and saw that they were both antidepressants that he had heard of in passing.

“What are you doing?”

“Shit!” Eddie gasped. He looked up to see Richie leaning over the side of the bed, looking at him curiously. “Nothing, I’m just putting his stuff back.”

“Are you – ” Richie’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he dropped the volume of his voice. “Are you going through Bill’s shit?”

“N-no,” Eddie lied. “I mean, I saw some stuff, but I’m just… putting it back.”

“Bullshit,” Richie whispered hoarsely. “Stop snooping.”

Eddie didn’t respond, feeling his cheeks burning and skin crawl as he hastily shoved the last of Bill’s things in the bag, throwing it up on the bed as he stood up. He could feel Richie’s eyes boring into him as he tried to inconspicuously lie back down on the bed.

“He’s going to notice is stuff is trashed,” Richie said, just as Bill came in.

“Why is my stuff trashed?”

“I knocked your shit over,” Eddie practically yelped. “Sorry.”

“You couldn’t put it back in nicer than this?” Bill laughed, looking into his belongings. “I’m going to get to repack this.”

“Yeah, uh, sorry. I just… didn’t want to feel like I was going through your shit,” Eddie muttered awkwardly.

“Ooook,” Bill said, his eyes darting between Richie and Eddie, but he didn’t say anything else on the matter, pulling his clothes out to refold them into his bag. Eddie made a mental note to ask Bill about the pills in the most discrete way possible another time.

Saying goodbye to them all was not easy to say the least. Patty had gone back to her dorm since she and Eddie had class the next day, and the rest of them would be either on their way to the airport and getting ready to do so when Eddie woke up for class, so he made his rounds before bed. Beverly practically made Eddie sleep with her in the bed, seeming like she’d never let him go when she hugged him good night.

“We’ll all see each other at Christmas,” Mike said kindly, hugging Eddie tightly. “We’ll all be back in Derry with our families in less than two months.”

“You’re right,” Eddie said, sniffling. “It just sucks saying goodbye to you guys.”

“Take care of yourself, Eddie,” Ben said softly when it came his turn to say goodbye. “Please, call us if you ever need to.”

When it came time to go to bed, Bill did not protest one bit when Eddie was practically on top of him, spooning him from the side. In turn, Richie laid his giant body down and wrapped them both up beneath him, sending Bill into a small laughing fit.

“This is so _gay,_ ” he chuckled, pulling Eddie into his chest tightly.

“You fucking love it, Denbrough,” came Richie’s muffled voice over Bill’s head.

“Bill, promise you’ll call every day,” said Eddie.

“ _Every_ day? Jesus, no,” Bill laughed.

“Every other day then,” Eddie insisted. “Please? I just… need to hear from you more.”

The other two likely sensed the hesitation and urgency in Eddie’s voice, because he could feel the tension between them. Eddie felt scared for a moment, but Bill replied softly, “Of course I’ll call, Eds.”

If it wasn’t for Patty keeping him company, Eddie would have likely fell asleep in his morning class. He couldn’t stop yawning, but he still felt a high from the weekend. Patty was sweet enough to bring him a coffee to class.

“Mmm,” Eddie hummed contentedly into the coffee cup. “How’d you know I like cinnamon?”

“Because I’ve heard you say ‘Mmm, I love cinnamon,’ every time I bring you baked treats,” Patty giggled. “Thank you so much for letting me hang out with you and your friends.”

“Oh, please. You’re part of the gang now; you fit right in. I loved having you there and so did everyone else. The ticket diary thing was really sweet, too. Richie’s really excited to start filling it up with movie and theater stubs.”

“You’re very welcome,” said Patty, smiling with a blush forming on her cheeks. It was a shame that she was only in the one class, because it seemed to take forever to get through the rest of his day, even when Eddie fell asleep at his desk.

When Eddie got home, Richie appeared to be fast asleep on the couch; his arms were folded up on his chest, head lolled to the side towards the TV, which he had likely fallen asleep watching. Eddie dropped his things down on the kitchen counter, slipping off his sneakers so he could quietly walk into the living room and turn the TV off, briefly catching the colors snap to black.

“I was watching that,” Richie grumbled sleepily, eyes still closed.

“You’re such a dad,” Eddie chuckled, trying to shove his ass on what little space on the couch Richie left on the edge around his waist.

Richie opened his eyes slowly, all soft and warm and dark, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked up at Eddie, reaching a hand over to rub Eddie’s leg. “How’s it feel having the place to ourselves again?”

It would be a lie to say Eddie didn’t miss all of his friends dearly and he wished he could see them more often. But truthfully, Richie’s presence was so whole and wonderful that he filled up the space in the apartment more than any amount of people ever could. It was impossible for the place to feel empty, even in the absence of the many people that had left. Instead of answering, Eddie leaned down and kissed Richie, immediately feeling him reciprocate against him, his long limbs wrapping around Eddie and helping him drag in body on top of Richie.

The only problem with being on top was that Eddie usually needed his arm for balance, a difficult thing even after all this time to get a hang of, because he was always so frantic and clumsy. Despite his length and frame, Richie always seemed to be graceful, always able to keep Eddie steady while they undressed like this. Eddie shimmied himself between Richie’s legs, one of them dropping to the floor next to the couch while they adjusted themselves more comfortably. He wet his fingers, letting Richie hold onto him, feeling Richie’s hands squeeze tight when Eddie grinned down and started working into him.

“ _Fuck_ , Eds,” Richie whined under him. “How do you manage to do that with your tiny fucking hands?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie chuckled down at him, hooking his fingers up into Richie’s prostate to elicit a moan from him. They did this for a few minutes, Eddie unable to stop himself from rutting into Richie’s thigh as he watched Richie’s dick twitch against his stomach from Eddie’s stimulation and stretching. “I need to get a condom,” Eddie said, but he looked up to Richie grinning, reaching back to pull one out from the pillow under his head.

“Got lube, too.”

“How fucking prudent of you.” Eddie leaned down to kiss Richie fully on the mouth, using the pressure of their kiss to keep his body steady so he could pull his fingers out from beneath him and take the lube out from behind Richie’s head. He kept kissing Richie, wet and sloppy with their tongues and teeth clashing against each other while he fingered some lube into Richie, stretching him out a little more to get him ready. He could tell out frenzied Richie was getting from the little moans in the back of his throat and how his fingers were pressing into the skin on Eddie’s sides. Eddie finally pulled away, leaning back so he could peel open the condom wrapper with his teeth.

“I think I know why your dick is so big,” Richie panted up at him.

“ _What_?” Eddie puffed, raising an eyebrow as he rolled his condom on.

“Cause I’m so big,” Richie said, throwing his hands up as if to accentuate how much space his body took up. “It’s the perfect fit. It’s like our dicks were made for each other, all snug and perfect. Seriously, if my dick was that big, I’d rip you in two cause you’re so tight – ”

Eddie rolled his eyes and slapped his hand over Richie’s mouth. “Beep, beep Richard.” Eddie didn’t want Richie to sit there talking about how tight he was, because he knew it would get him hot and wanting Richie to fuck him, but he wanted something else right now. As he positioned himself and started thrusting into Richie without any hesitation, hearing Richie moan and feeling his body shake under him, he felt a thrilling jolt in his chest, like plunging down a rollercoaster. It happened every time Eddie was on top, looking down completely enamored with Richie and pleased with how much he could make this big doofus crumble into an incoherent horny mess with his dick. It was literally impossible for Eddie to say which he liked better as a verse, but looking down at Richie panting and arching his back and whining ” _Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!”_ under him, and how tight _Richie_ was around him, this was exactly what he wanted in this moment.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eddie growled, shoving Richie’s glasses off of his face so that they flew somewhere towards the floor, lacing his hands up into Richie’s hair and gripping tightly to use it as leverage with his thrusting. He started mouthing at Richie’s jaw as he did so, biting probably a little too harshly as the soft skin on his neck and around his ears, because Richie went fucking insane when Eddie was biting his ears, clamping around Eddie tightly as if to hold him in place while he did so.

Suddenly, something happened; it was like a shift in the aura, the atmosphere around them becoming very cold and harsh around their hot, sweaty bodies. A severely intrusive thought inhabited Eddie’s brain then, as he nibbled on Richie’s neck, a vivid and disturbing image of Richie’s neck snapping beneath him.

But no, not beneath him. Somewhere else, far away from Eddie… somewhere deep underground where Beverly had told Eddie that Richie might die. The image flashed in his brain like a movie projecting behind his eyes: Richie taking one final step past the yellow caution lines, letting his body descend down, just barely hitting the tracks before the heavy metal of a train smacked into him with a sickening crack of broken bones and tearing flesh –

“ _Fuck, oh fuck_ ,” Eddie sobbed into Richie’s neck.

In the heat of the moment, Richie must have thought it was a sound of pleasure, reaching a hand up and pulling Eddie’s hair tightly, the other pressing firmly down on Eddie’s lower back to keep Eddie grinding deeper into him. And Eddie kept going, trying to keep his grasp on Richie firm, as if he’d disappear from beneath him in an instant, pressing his body down onto him, desperately trying to feel everything around Richie, inside of Richie, burying his face deeper into his soft flesh and inhaling Richie so that his presence, his life, could consume his thoughts again. It was so difficult to keep himself from crying out when he came, as if it was unwelcome, because it meant he’d have to stop what they were doing. Richie must’ve sensed him coming about a second before he did, because his grip moved to Eddie’s hip, helping angle Eddie to press firmly onto his prostate and pull him into orgasm just behind Eddie while Eddie was still thrusting and coming down from his own.

The initial high he would’ve gotten was so quick it might not have even happened; Eddie could feel his dopamine crashing and his dry sobs were wetting with tears dropping down onto Richie’s neck, his whole body starting to shake.

“Shit – shit, Eddie are you OK?” he heard Richie whisper, his throat moving against Eddie’s face, chest still heaving beneath him.

And fuck, no, he wasn’t OK. Because Eddie was thinking about a world without Richie – his wonderful, goofy, lovable Richie. Even worse, he thought of a world where Richie felt so terrible and empty that he would choose to end his own life. Eddie knew what that felt like, and the idea, the _suggestion_ that Richie would one day possibly feel like that, too, absolutely destroyed Eddie and it was a much worse feeling than he ever thought possible. The pain of it rolled into him like waves at the realization that _he_ had made Richie feel this way with his own actions, that he had completely devastated Richie for doing what he had done, and he couldn’t bear any of this.

“Richie, I’m so sorry,” Eddie cried into Richie’s neck. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Richie cooed, shifting below him. “Here, hold on.”

Eddie let Richie sit them up, crying the entire time he did so, but not embarrassing himself enough to allow Richie to clean him, choosing to take his condom off and toss it aside into the waste bin with a heavy sob. Richie hastily wiped himself clean from the mess he had made on his stomach, reaching back to grab a throw blanket from the back of the couch and wrap it around he and Eddie, pulling Eddie back into his chest. Eddie was still sobbing so hard he was hiccupping, so Richie tried rubbing his back soothingly. Richie tucked Eddie’s bare shoulder under his arm so he could wrap Eddie’s arm over onto his chest against his heart, gently placing Eddie’s hand next to his own face against Richie’s warm skin so Eddie could feel and count Richie’s heartbeat.

“Hey, Eddie, can you name five things you can see in the room for me?”

It took a second for Eddie’s brain to catch up, realizing Richie was using an old therapeutic tactic to help with panic attacks from one of Eddie’s old school counselors. It was a way to ground him when his mind was becoming too frantic. The task was simple: Name five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It always ended with Richie gently kissing Eddie so he could say it was Richie’s coffee breath or something similar to try and elicit a little laugh. So just like all those other times, Eddie felt Richie’s fingers gentle under his chin, lifting him up to plant a soft kiss on his lips. The taste of his lips was sweet as sugar, probably from cereal Richie had eaten before his nap, with a hint of Eddie’s own minty breath from kissing so deeply into Richie’s mouth moments before; Eddie couldn’t bring himself to make a joke because of how good it was.

“Better?” Richie said softly, smiling warmly at Eddie.

Eddie nodded, but he still felt the immense guilt built up in his chest like acidic slime oozing onto his insides. “Rich… I’m so sorry I ever thought about leaving you. Killing myself, I mean,” he added when Richie looked confused, then dropping to a more concerned and sincere expression.

“Eddie, you don’t have to apologize for something like that.”

“But that such an awful thing to do to you,” Eddie croaked, feeling his eyes swimming again. “You love me so much and I hurt you so _so_ bad – ”

Richie’s fingers gently brushed over his lips, but firm enough for Eddie to realize he was trying to keep him quiet.

“Eddie, I do love you. And I know you love me, too, and I know it wasn’t something you chose to do to me. I can’t imagine how awful you must have felt.”

 _But you will soon_ , said a harsh voice in the back of Eddie’s mind. It was a sick and twisted thought, pushing out another sob from Eddie’s throat. Richie squeezed him tighter. When he spoke again, his voice was much lower, barely more than a whisper against Eddie’s flesh.

“Are you feeling like that now?”  
“No!” Eddie gasped immediately. “I mean, no. I’m OK, I just…” He took a deep breath, because he shouldn’t have lied to Richie about what he was doing with Bill. He should never lie to Richie at all, because he promised he wouldn’t. He looked up into Richie’s dark, concerned eyes, reaching up to gingerly stroke his cheek. “Rich… there’s something I have to talk to you about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – USA  
> (800) 273-TALK (8255)
> 
> Samaritans (UK Crisis Help, Anywhere in the UK or Ireland)  
> 116 123


	12. There are things in us that we can find again only by going back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday!  
> This chapter, while technically the exact same length as my others, feeeeeeels a bit shorter, I don't know. But the next chapter has a lot going on, so whoop here it is.
> 
> Thank you to everyone stopping by and leaving kudos. I can't believe This Was Always Your Home hit over 3000 hits! That's unbelievable.  
> Please leave any comments you wish, I love hearing from people and talking to you guys!
> 
> TW: mention of violence, mention of death (No MC), casual sex and choking ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Shit.

Maybe this wasn’t the right time.

He should talk to Beverly first; she was the one that saw the visions, she should get as much a say in who knows as Eddie does. And shit, what if this makes things worse? What if telling Richie is the thing that plants the idea in his head in the first place?

“Eds?” Richie said carefully. “What is it?”

Eddie swallowed roughly to coat the dryness in his throat. “We should call Bev. I think… I think she should be part of this.”

Richie cocked an eyebrow in confusion, but did not argue. They dressed themselves before carrying the phone cradle over to the couch so Eddie could dial Beverly and Ben’s home number, bringing the phone up between them so he and Richie could both listen to the receiver. It rang a quite a few times and Eddie assumed for a moment that he was going to have to leave a message, until Beverly’s tired voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Bev,” Eddie said almost too cheerfully. He could practically hear Beverly cringe on the other end of the line, but she laughed lightly anyway.

“Jeez, miss us already? I’m trying to take a nap before I go back to reality here in Chicago.”

“Sorry to bother you,” he said sincerely. “But, uh… I was wondering if you would mind helping me to explain some things to Richie…”

There was silence on the other end before he heard Beverly sigh, followed by some ruffling noises as if she was nestling herself down on her bed or sofa. “How did I know you wouldn’t even last a day before spilling to Richie?”

“Is this some sort of surprise I’m not supposed to know about?” Richie asked playfully, though Eddie could still sense the concern in his face.

“Not… no,” Eddie muttered.

“I can tell him if you want, Eddie.”

It sickened him a little that he got some relief from that, but he was extremely grateful for Bev’s offer. “If – if you could… please.”

Eddie gently shifted the phone to better rest against Richie’s ear, still somewhat able to hear a little of what Beverly was saying. He watched Richie’s face carefully, sliding his hand under Richie’s while he listened to Bev. Eddie wondered how seriously Richie would take this, or if he would find any reason for worry at all, but he could see Richie’s face falter and his jaw tighten as he listened. Shortly after this, he felt Richie’s hand squeeze his tightly. Beverly’s voice got lower, and Eddie started to lean closer to hear her better, but jumped back as soon as Richie spoke.

“No!” he blurted. “I don’t – I don’t want to know that yet.”

Eddie squeezed Richie’s hand back, feeling sweat building under Richie’s palm. He wished so badly he could crawl inside Richie’s head and give his thoughts some comfort. Beverly was speaking again and Richie’s jaw tightened again quickly before his eyes darted up to Eddie.

“Stan, too?” he whispered to her. Another pause while she replied. “Who’s – I mean, am I – ?”

Eddie shook his head no immediately, knowing Richie was wondering if he was next. Bev seemed to voice this the same time. Richie nodded, despite her not being able to see this.

“That’s… I mean, this is pretty heavy,” he said, cradling the phone in his shoulder so he could rub his eyes with his other hand. “OK, yeah… I will. Th-thanks, Bev. I’ll try. Love you, too.”

Eddie opened his mouth to say goodbye to Bev, but Richie slammed the phone down immediately. It was hard to discern the emotions on his face; honestly, he looked mostly exhausted, and Eddie felt somewhat uncomfortable.

“Not to be pushy,” he started cautiously. “But are you – do you want – what do you need right now?”

Richie took a deep breath through his nose, pursing his lips tightly as he seemed to contemplate what he wanted to say first. Eddie waited patiently, but he could feel his foot start to bounce in anticipation while Richie thought about what he wanted to say.

“I didn’t know about Stan,” he finally said quietly. “I feel like a really shitty friend.”

“You’re not, Rich,” Eddie said earnestly. “You’re not a mind reader. Everyone has secrets; even from their best friends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true. I don’t tell Stan the finger cuffing 69 thing – ”

“What the fuck, Richie,” Eddie babbled, sliding his hand out of Richie’s to smack his shoulder, his cheeks reddening despite no one else being present to hear this. “This is not the time for that.”

Richie continued to stare ahead of him seemingly at nothing. “What were you looking for in Bill’s bag?”

Eddie bit his lip shamefully. “Pills.”

Riche nodded once. “That’s how he does it?”

Eddie felt a cold, fuzzy sensation in his chest. “Hopefully not. I’m wondering… well, Stan had suggested maybe it was possible we had to… let each one _almost_ happen. I’m not really sure how else we’d determine when it passes each of us…” He scooted closer to Richie on the couch so that their legs were overlapping, but Richie still wasn’t looking at him. “Did Bev say anything else to you?”

Richie nodded again. “She decided she’s going to tell Mike. He was the one that was able to figure out practically everything else about It. Plus, apparently he’s last, so…” Then, Richie looked at Eddie so suddenly that he felt frozen in his gaze. “Don’t tell me how I do it. I don’t think I can handle that.”

“I won’t,” Eddie said immediately. “Because you’re not going to do it. I won’t let you. You’re stuck with me for life, Tozier.”

To his extreme relief, Richie smiled at him, and it was genuine and warm and filled that cold spot in Eddie’s chest. He reached a hand up to cup Eddie’s face and stroked his cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. “I don’t think you realize how many times you’ve saved me already, Kaspbrak.”

Richie’s words echoed through Eddie’s head constantly, but he assured Eddie he was OK. Richie assured him, in the general sense of love and all that, he would be simply lost without Eddie, but Eddie made him promise to open up if his thoughts turned for the worse. Richie may not have been next on Bev’s list, but this didn’t mean Eddie was any less concerned for Richie’s overall wellbeing and sense of self-worth. In the meantime, he would also make sure to be there for Bill, as well. So on the nights Eddie had not yet heard from Bill before bed, Eddie began calling him so they could talk just about every day. Bill didn’t seem to mind and used the opportunity to go over the intricacies of the novel he was working on. Honestly, it was quite good, too, except…

“The ending is a bit of a downer, don’t you think?” Eddie asked one night.

“It works in context with the story,” Bill tried to reason, his tone a bit frustrated. “Trust me, when I finally flesh it all out of the outline it will start to flow and make more sense. I think I’m just not articulating it right over the phone…”

“I’m sure it will be great. You better send me an autographed copy when it’s done.”

“Heh, are you going to put it on display somewhere to brag about at dinner parties? _Oh, my best friend, William Denbrough, he’s a best-selling author, no big deal_.”

“Hell no; I’m going to sell it and buy a yacht for the mansion my famous comedian husband is going to buy me in the Hamptons.”

Just as a precaution, Eddie also called Mike more frequently. Neither of them mentioned the Deadlights or their conversations with Bev, but whenever Eddie asked how Bill was doing, Mike never questioned his persistence. When Thanksgiving came around, Mike assured Eddie that Bill would be coming over to his place up north to have dinner with him and Penny (“And visit Angel, of course,” Mike chuckled, surely petting the dog as he spoke).

Since Richie’s parents were going on a cruise, Stanley asked if they could host Thanksgiving to invite Patty and her brother, since he was not welcome anywhere else. There wasn’t any way they could say no, and Richie went into some crazy cooking frenzy in excitement the day of.

“You are doing such a good job, gorgeous. Look at those plump, juicy breasts. God, it’s gonna be so good in my mouth.”

“Richie are – are you talking to the turkey?” Eddie asked, leaning over the counter from the barstool to see Richie peering into the oven intently.

“She needs encouragement. It’s just like talking to plants to help them grow.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how that works,” Eddie chuckled. “Do you need help with, like, anything?”

Eddie himself was overwhelmed by the amount of food Richie was preparing on the stove and in the oven with the turkey. But Richie insisted that all Eddie had to worry about was picking up the desserts from the bakery in the morning, which he had already done, leaving him to do nothing but wait for their guests to arrive and watch The Wizard of Oz on cable.

“My dad used to watch this movie with me,” Eddie heard himself saying. “It was always on around Thanksgiving.”

“Well, it makes sense your dad liked it. Gays love this movie.”

“Do we?” Eddie laughed, looking over at Richie mashing up some potatoes. “Is that really a thing or did you just make that shit up?”

“No, apparently Judy Garland was like a huge gay rights activist and stuff. Apparently people say there’s a lot of queer coding in the movie, but I’m not sure how true that it.”

“Huh,” Eddie murmured. “I mean, the Scarecrow did say he saw people that like to go _both ways_ at some point.”

He grinned over at Richie just as the phone rang; it was certainly strange to get a call from someone midday, especially since the Tozier’s were likely sipping margaritas in Punta Cana right now, so Eddie picked it up hesitantly.

“Hello?”

“H-hey, Eddie.”

“Hey, Bill,” Eddie said cautiously. Alarm bells were going off in his head, but he was trying not to immediately start freaking out on Bill, especially since he was the king of freak outs and knew it could cause Bill to close up right away.

“What – uh – wh-what are you guys doing?”

“Richie’s cooking… are you at Mike’s right now?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m – I’m in b-bedroom right n-now, just t-trying to clear a h-headache.”

They all had their subtle signs of stress. Richie and Stan would smoke, and sometimes Stan would need to start counting things in his room or the tiles on the floors wherever he was. Beverly would always bite her nails raw, Ben would excessively exercise to the point he got sick, and Mike would always get these intense tension headaches. Eddie – well, Eddie would not so subtly scream and yell at people, it wasn’t hard to tell when he was snapping. Then, of course, for Bill – there was his stutter.

“Bill, what’s wrong?”

He met eyes with Richie for a moment when Richie turned around and gave Eddie a look of concern. There was another noise Eddie could hear on the other line, a rapid tapping noise that he suspected was Bill tapping the hardwood floor or the edge of some furniture with his foot. Eddie tried to remain patient while Bill made a couple of airy sounds, like he was trying to figure out where to start.

“I, uh, I’m n-not going to b-be seeing you guys f-f-for Christmas.”

“How come?”

Bill sighed into the phone. “M-my parents don’t – don’t want me c-coming. S-so I guess I’ll b-be st-staying here.”

Eddie opened his mouth and then shut it quickly, because it would be stupid to ask why. The only real joy Bill ever got from visiting his parents for the holidays was seeing the rest of the Losers in Derry during their visit. Bill would often make his parents dinner and bring them something thoughtful while his father chastised his career and his mother sat silent and detached, not having said a proper word to him for almost a decade. Deep down, Eddie knew Bill’s parents wrongfully pinned some of the blame on Georgie’s death on him, and perhaps seeing him for the holidays had finally taken its toll.

The shittiest part of it all was that Bill believed them. Granted, he had stuck by his choices of where he went to college, who he roomed with, and what he decided to do with his degree, but there was an extent of Bill that wholeheartedly agreed that part of his brother’s death rested on his shoulders. No matter how many times Eddie or the other Losers would assure Bill that it wasn’t the case, and how many times Bill would brush them off and say, “I know, I know,” it seemed to be dishearteningly unchanging.

Richie was close enough to the phone that he had heard what Bill had said and did not hesitate to grab the phone from Eddie. “Bill you stupid bitch, you’re coming to Derry with us.”

Eddie stared at Richie with his mouth open and heard Bill mutter something too quietly for him to understand. Richie shook his head.

“I don’t give a shit; you’re not spending Christmas by yourself. You’ll stay with us, it’ll be great. You absolutely cannot bail on us for Christmas, dude… no, shut up, Mama Tozier will kill you if you don’t make face. You’re going to book a flight with Mike and my sister and meet us home, OK?”

Before he could hear Bill argue, he shoved the phone back in Eddie’s hand and continued to busy himself in the kitchen. Eddie quickly brought the phone up to his ear, but he could only hear Bill breathing on the other end.

“You all right, Big Bill?” 

Bill sighed, but he let out a low chuckle. “I d-don’t have to share a b-bed with you g-guys, do I?”

With finals testing his patience, Eddie barely made it through the end of the semester without a complete meltdown. He was nowhere near how bad he was before, and he wasn’t having _those_ thoughts anymore, but his doctor had adjusted his medications again after many sleepless nights, never ending overthinking, and maybe a few outbursts with strangers on the streets and one of his classmates who was supposed to complete a final presentation with him and didn’t end up showing up. Eddie found himself storming to the guy’s dorm room after barely making it through the project by himself, thankful that his teacher showed some small amount of empathy for him.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem?” Eddie yelled immediately once the dorm door swung open. His class mate, Brandon, was in pajamas and had appeared to be packing up all of his things, literally _everything_ , as opposed to just the necessities he would be bringing home for winter break.

“Sorry dude, I just didn’t want to waste my time,” Brandon shrugged, turning to go back to his packing. All of his roommates stuff appeared to be packed away and gone, too, the other side of the room being completely empty.

“Waste _your_ time?” Eddie continued, stepping into the room fuming. “What about _mine_ , dude? We fucking planned this shit as a two-man presentation and I couldn’t get through half your shit!”

Brandon shrugged again. “Sorry, man. I already aced the semester so there wasn’t any point in me showing up.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean you _aced_ it?”

Brandon gestured over to the empty side of the room. “My roommate died. College is giving me a free ride for the semester, straight 4.0. Kind of sucks the dumb fuck did it in December, could’ve saved me a shit ton of work.”

Eddie reeled back, trying to comprehend what he had just said. “What he – he just fucking died? And they passed you for the whole semester?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s some unspoken rule for the university. They think I’m so stressed about finding him like that, that I deserve straight A’s.”

“Oh… how did he…?”

“He hung himself,” Brandon said nonchalantly, throwing some clothes in a suitcase.

But Eddie felt like something about that was off. “You found him after he killed himself?”

To his surprise, Brandon laughed. “Not on purpose. It was an accident; he was jerking off.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You ever hear of that shit?” Brandon asked, turning back to Eddie with an amused expression. “People apparently choke themselves when they jerk off to get a better orgasm or something. Dumbass tried it and I had to literally walk in on his massive erect dong laying on the floor over there.”

Well, that was… wild, to say the least. Richie thought so, too, when Eddie told him about it later that afternoon. Their evening was surprisingly quiet and even more surprisingly awkward after Stan had left to take Patty out to dinner and celebrate her finishing her finals. Things continued to feel weird when they decided to go into their bedroom and have sex, Richie still uncharacteristically quiet while he leaned back against the headboard, gripping Eddie’s thighs while Eddie rode on top of him. It wasn’t until Eddie felt Richie’s hand slide up his chest gently, his eyes closed as he was trying to focus on feeling Richie inside of him, that something sparked in him and he realized he and Richie had both been thinking the same thing. He opened his eyes to see Richie’s dark eyes staring at him intensely, his hand snaking up his chest and caressing his neck. Somewhere in the back of Eddie’s mind he told himself, yes, this is probably a weird way to explore that horrible memory and replace that awful sensation with something more pleasant, something more exciting, but Richie was clearly thinking about it, too. So when he felt Richie’s large hand gently clasp around his neck, he confirmed with a firm nod.

It took him a bit by surprise when Richie leaned up, wrapping his other arm around Eddie’s lower back to grip his hip to hold him steady and take control, his other hand still around his neck while he pressed Eddie down into his groin. “You sure?” he breathed.

Eddie nodded once more. “Do it.”

There was a quick second that he almost immediately spat out their safe word, something stupid they had established years ago just in case one of them (usually Richie) thought of something weird in the heat of the moment. Eddie felt his jaw immediately open while his body tried to inhale some air into his lungs while Richie squeezed his neck and started thrusting up into him to hit his prostate roughly, but the rise of his orgasm was so quick that wanting to stop this now didn’t feel like a priority. The entire time building up to this he kept wondering how this could possibly help make it feel better in anyway, but sure enough when his orgasm rolled into him, there were fuzzy sparks of pleasure buzzing between his ears and exploding like fireworks so intense that he swore he could see all the colors dancing in front of him. Richie grinned at him while it worked through him and Eddie let out tiny breathless whimpers, finally releasing the grip on his neck to reach back and grab into Eddie’s hair to pull him towards Richie’s face. Eddie only had a second to gasp for air and feel the cold rush of oxygen flow back into his brain before Richie kissed him roughly, moaning into his mouth as Eddie was sure he was coming into him. Once he felt Richie slow down and relax, Eddie completely collapsed onto Richie’s chest and rested limply into him, feeling him chuckle under him.

“I’m guessing that was OK?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie panted against Richie’s shoulder. Richie’s hands were caressing his back.

“Yeah, you looked like you were entering a whole new fucking dimension for a minute.”

“Please don’t talk about my sex face,” Eddie muttered embarrassingly. It was one thing in the moment to feel Richie looking at him in awe, it was another thinking about it post coitus.

Richie leaned his face forward to kiss Eddie’s shoulder gently, helping roll Eddie back down onto the mattress on his back so Richie could clean himself up. Their flight was tomorrow and neither of them knew when or if they’d be able to have sex while at Richie’s parents house. Eddie didn’t realize how tired he was until his head hit the pillow, not even bothering to cover himself up until he felt Richie pull the blanket over them, scooting close and wrapping Eddie up against his chest.

Eddie felt Richie whisper above him, tickling the top of his head. “Well, I’m glad you liked it. I don’t want you to think I was trying to hurt you…”

“Of course not,” Eddie sighed, slowly feeling himself be pulled into sleep. “I trust you, Rich.”

Thankfully, Stan had remembered to set an alarm in the morning, because neither of them did. Stan shook them both awake once he realized they were still sleeping and they quickly showered, Richie packing a majority of his shit last minute by shoving it inside of a duffle bag. Stan was just about to threaten to call a cab without them when Richie finally burst out of the bedroom, shoes untied and tags of his undershirt sticking out of the front of his sweater. Eddie kept shaking him in the taxi on the way to JFK so he wouldn’t fall asleep again. His nerves were itching under his skin all the way until they got into their seats on the plane, sitting right in the middle of Stan and Richie. After all these years going back and forth between the states, his anxiety about flying never seemed to ease.

“Did your psychiatrist offer you any advice?” Richie whispered quietly, holding Eddie’s hand tightly for the takeoff.

“She prescribed me a couple xanax,” Eddie muttered. “I didn’t even pick them up from the pharmacy, I was afraid of having them on me.”

His panic surged quickly when Richie let go of us hand, but he settled down more comfortably as Richie wrapped his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, letting Eddie’s head rest on his own, and taking Eddie’s hand again with his other. “That’s probably for the best, yeah? It’ll just be an hour and we’ll be home in no time.”

“Yeah, I know.” Eddie turned his head, burying his face to shield himself from the awful temptation of looking out the window and watching the take off, feeling the plane rumbling beneath his seat.

It was impossible to get any rest on the plane, jealousy seeping through him when he took a glance over at Stan sleeping comfortably in his seat. Richie struggled to keep himself awake with Eddie, trying to occupy them both with a crossword puzzle they finished all too quickly. As he always did when the plane descended, Eddie closed his eyes again, shoving his face into Richie’s shoulder and squeezing his hand tight until the plane smacked down onto the earth’s surface and came to a stop.

“See?” Richie said cheerfully, nudging Eddie. “We’re home, safe and sound.”

They still had to rent a car, and Eddie shuffled around the airport while Stanley argued with the Enterprise employee about the surcharges for being under the age of 25. He purchased a pack of Twizzler’s to share with Richie from a vending machine and wandered over to where Richie was standing, staring down at a line of various newspapers. Something about him was off, standing stiffly with his hands in his pockets, and Eddie felt his anxiety creeping back the second he saw Richie’s face, his eyebrows knit together and lips pursed. He followed Richie’s gaze to one of the newspapers in particular, nothing standing out immediately until he saw one of the side stories, something that apparently didn’t warrant anything more worthy than a page 18 story in Derry, Maine.

_Slaying of Homosexual Man by Local Teens_

Yup, Eddie thought ruefully. He was home.


	13. The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you for the new kudos!  
> All feedback is appreciated, and it's crazy to see the hits go up on this!
> 
> Thanks again, and hope everyone is enjoying Star Wars Day!
> 
> TW: panic attack, light sexual content, brief violence, the slow transition of baby Richie turning into big forehead Bill Hader (who I love to death, no hate)

Eddie was positive that if he was still in his mindset from a couple months ago, he would have absolutely lost it. Reading the words sent a jolt to his gut like he had just missed a step on the stairs, and he backed away from the newspaper stands like they were some sort of pack of wild animals. Some sort of strangled noise escaped Eddie’s throat, which triggered Richie, finally realizing Eddie was there. He tried to spring into action, knowing full well Eddie’s panic attack was on the rise, but Eddie threw his arm up to keep Richie away.

“Not now,” Eddie croaked. “Not here. Not – not in public.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Richie muttered, moving his arms around frantically, obviously not knowing what to do or how to comfort Eddie this way. “Hey, Eds, look at me.”

Eddie shook his head frantically, avoiding the eyes of the several people passing by. They may have been intrigued, they may have just been walking by leaving Eddie unnoticed, but he didn’t want to meet anyone else’s gaze right now. There was nothing he wanted to do but jump in whatever shitty car they had managed to rent and hide out in the Tozier’s house for the next week. Fucking Derry. He wondered how many people he knew in this town that were completely unfazed by what these sadistic little shits had done to this poor kid, and it made him sick to his stomach. He didn’t know how he wasn’t throwing up right now, honestly.

Eddie yelped loudly when he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning sharply to see the warm, welcoming face of Mike Hanlon.

“Sorry, Eddie!” Mike said sincerely. “Didn’t mean to startle ya – we just got our car since some bonehead from New York is busy harassing the clerks about surcharges.”

“It –it’s OK,” Eddie stammered, his eyes registering Bill and Penny both looking at him cautiously.

“Penny,” Richie said urgently, grabbing his sister by the sleeve of her jacket. “Put your arm around Eddie.”

“Wha – ?” Penny started to ask, but was cut short by whatever look Richie had given her before Eddie felt one of her arms wrap around his waist. It wasn’t Richie, but Eddie was relieved for the small physical comfort and Richie’s attempt in vicariously consoling Eddie through his sister.

“Rough plane ride, huh?” Mike asked politely, nudging Eddie’s foot with his own.

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbled. “That’s all. Just the plane.”

“Eddie?” Penny whispered quietly enough for only Eddie to hear. “Mikey is going to drive us to Mom and Dad’s now, OK? Stanley is driving to his parents, so we can go home now.”

Eddie nodded. Home. Maggie and Wentworth’s house. It was one of the few places Eddie felt completely safe and happy in this ass-backwards redneck town. Spending the holidays there these past few years never caused Eddie any distress and he hoped with all his heart the house wasn’t going to be surrounded by hostility over the queers being back in town, considering how kindly some of the locals had treated this kid…

Eddie barely registered parting with Stan outside the airport, the cold air biting his skin harshly and doing nothing to calm his nerves until they tucked him into the backseat. Richie somehow folded himself behind Mike in the driver’s seat so he could discretely hold Eddie’s hand in the back while Penelope scooted in the other side, resting her head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You’re still shaking,” she said, gently rubbing Eddie’s side.

“It might just be the cold now,” Eddie laughed lightly. “I can’t tell if I’m still having a panic attack or not.”

“I can’t wait to have Maggie’s homemade cocoa,” Mike said once they got onto the main road, trying to steer the conversation somewhere pleasant. “That’ll warm you right up.”

“Ugh, I miss Mom’s cocoa,” Richie moaned.

“She still melts the Andes chocolate bits with cream in a slow cooker?” Bill asked from the front passenger’s seat. “I haven’t had it since we were kids.”

“She started putting cinnamon liquor in it now,” Richie sighed, leaning his head back. “It’s sooooo fucking good.”

“It probably wouldn’t be a good idea for me to have some,” Eddie muttered bitterly.

“Don’t be silly; it won’t kill you to have a little. But Mom won’t be offended if you say no,” Richie added, lifting Eddie’s hand up to kiss the back of his knuckles. Eddie quickly craned around to make sure there weren’t any cars driving alongside them to see, but the coast was clear. Richie dropped their hands down, squeezing just a little and smiled tenderly at him. “It’s just a week, love. We’ll spend the whole time cuddled up inside, all cozy in our pajamas.”

“I guess the one downside to sleeping on the couch is getting up once everyone else is,” said Bill. “I’m going to be so jetlagged all week.”

If the car ride did nothing to ease Eddie’s nerves, getting a bone crushing hug from each of Richie’s parents definitely squeezed the worries out of him. Maggie had a tendency to dote on them, and having the two extra bodies in the house only made her more the merrier.

“I’m so happy you two will be with us for Christmas!” she gushed, hugging Bill around the middle. “I was just cleaning up yesterday and found so many pictures to show you guys – ”

“Ma, we haven’t even gotten all of our luggage in!” Richie chuckled, pulling his mom away from Bill to plant a kiss on her cheek, forcing him to practically bend in half. The Tozier children got all of their length and lank from Wentworth, along with the dark hair and curls, all of their mother’s genes present in softer features of the face and their brown eyes. But every single one of them radiated a loving warmth and kindness Eddie hadn’t received in a home since his father passed nearly two decades ago.

Maggie also took no for an answer as much as Richie did, so with all their luggage still crammed and waiting in the entrance of the house, they all packed themselves tightly on the sofas in the den, passing around old photos Maggie preserved that featured the Losers at various times all the way from when they were small until graduating high school.

“ _Why_ did you sneak pictures of me running around naked?” Richie protested, trying to steal the old Polaroid’s from Eddie and Bill, both beet red with laughter.

“Where are you hiding your dick in this one?” Bill chuckled, relinquishing the pictures to Richie.

“It – it’s tucked in! I was fucking four; we all did it, Bill!”

“You had such a cute little heinie,” Maggie cooed, causing Richie to blush about five shades darker. “Now you’ve gone and ruined it with that awful tattoo!”

“Eds is the one that has to look at it, Ma; I don’t hear him complaining.”

“Holy shit,” Penny gasped. Her eyes kept darting between a photo in her hands and up at Richie’s forehead before she started giggling madly. “Richie, are you going _bald_?”

Richie angrily snatched the photo out of her hands to look at it. Eddie leaned over and felt a smile tug on his lips at the sight of a younger him and Richie on this very couch, recognizing it as a moment from Richie’s 17th birthday. Richie was splayed out, so much thinner and _long_ looking, pulling a giggling Eddie into his chest, pinning Eddie’s arms – both of them – crossed against his chest while his other hand was tickling Eddie relentlessly. God, they were both so young and happy and in love and so goddamn _stupid_ because neither of them even realized it, but Eddie’s heart swelled because even now, despite everything else going on in his life, he _still_ felt that giddily, stupidly happy with Richie. The biggest difference now was that Richie didn’t send butterflies to his stomach anymore; Eddie always had butterflies in his stomach, pesky and annoying and nerve-racking, but Richie was the only thing that could calm them down.

“That’s a really cute picture,” Eddie murmured squeezing Richie’s bicep.

“You can keep it,” Maggie said cheerfully. “It’s good to keep all these old keepsakes around.”

“Eddie, am I going bald?” Richie squeaked, pushing his hair back and looking down at Eddie.

Eddie looked down at the picture of 17-year-old Richie and back up at nearly 23-year-old Richie, first noticing how much his face had filled out, how much sharper his features had gotten, and then how much more forehead he could see…

“Ohmygodohmygod,” Richie muttered, seeing the answer in Eddie’s face.

“It’s not that bad!” Eddie exclaimed defensively.

“OK, the fact that you have to say it’s _not that bad_ means that it’s that bad.”

“How old was Grandpa when he started losing his hair?” Penelope teased, grinning wickedly.

“You probably won’t lose too much,” Bill suggested. “You’ll just have a crazy Frankenstein forehead.”

“Maybe you’re just so damn sexy, the universe is trying to balance you out?” Eddie offered, stuffing his giggle down.

“Yes,” Richie nodded earnestly. “That is exactly it. I’m just too damn sexy for the universe to handle. Of course, that means you’re going to start growing warts or something, because you’re just a too perfect combination of sexy and adorable.”

“Uh, hello?” Eddie gestured to the armless stump on his side. “I’ve already lost, like, at least 15% sexiness.”

This seemed to cheer Richie up immediately, bursting into delighted laughter and squeezing Eddie into a hug. “Fair enough, love. But you’re still perfect.” Mike joined Penelope in making throwing up noises. “Et tu, Mikey? Penelope, you’re turning the sweetest man in the universe into a creepy asshole like you!”

It wasn’t hard for Eddie to forget about poor young man on page 18 of the Derry paper. The Tozier house, now also housing Mike and Bill (and with the occasional accompaniment of Stan, Bev, and Ben) completely lifted Eddie’s spirits and eased his mind into a wonderful, happy peace. Christmas was quiet and delightful. Richie assisted his mother in cooking a grand feast, allowing Bill to lend a hand with some of the dishes as well before retiring with a headache. They watched movies and had a damn near apocalyptic snowball fight in the backyard. Stan did not have to do anything with his parents Christmas day until sunset when the Sabbath fell upon them, thanking them for dinner and taking his rental car back home. Eddie and Richie found themselves in bed early, falling asleep to The Santa Clause and spooning in the near-darkness with the only light coming from the old TV.

“Hey!” Eddie yelped, feeling Richie’s hand reach around to his front. “I was actually falling asleep…”

“And having quite the dream, I see,” Richie whispered behind him, slipping his hand down into Eddie’s front between his pants and briefs, caressing his erection through the fabric. “We haven’t gotten a chance to be alone like this all week…”

“Mmm,” Eddie hummed, not even ashamed of how his hips automatically thrust into Richie’s palm at his touch. “I can’t reach back and reciprocate from this side, though; I need to turn around…”

“Shh, don’t worry about it. Just relax.”

Eddie did just that and let out a soft moan as Richie’s hand sped up, but his heart practically burst through his chest when the bedroom door opened. He was so goddamn thankful they were completely under the covers from the neck down.

“Do you boys need anything before bed?” Maggie whispered over at them through the crack of the door she was popping her head through.

“ _No_ ,” Eddie squeaked hoarsely, feeling Richie chuckle silently against his back. “Just – just going to sleep, Maggie – thank you!”

“No worries. Love you both – good night!”

“Night, mama,” Richie managed to say, holding in his laughter against Eddie’s neck as Maggie closed the door again.

“You could have at least _stopped_ when she came in, Richie!”

“You’re no fun,” Richie retorted, and Eddie could practically hear his pout.

“Well, now we have to stop because I just keep thinking about your mom.”

“Maggie not doing it for you, eh?” Richie teased, but he pulled his hand up and kissed Eddie gently on the shoulder, rolling him over so Eddie was on his back.

Maggie wasn’t the only thing causing Eddie discomfort, though. Something was… off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, picking his brain and trying to find some sort of source of distress. The only thing he could think of was that stupid newspaper…

“Do you think we know the kids that killed that Adrian Mellon guy?” Eddie whispered.

“Who?”

Eddie turned to look at him. “The gay guy from the newspaper we saw that got killed here.”

Richie frowned. “We shouldn’t talk about that.”

“Well, what if I want to talk about it?” Eddie argued defensively. “I’m not a baby, Richie, I can handle it.”  
“What if I can’t?”

The words alone practically slapped Eddie with the force behind them. “What… what do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

Richie sighed, rolling over onto his back parallel to Eddie on the bed. “I’m sorry, I just… I hate thinking that this kind of shit still happens – and for what? Like, what the fuck is so threatening about us just – like – _existing_ for fucks sake. That’s why I wanted to leave this town so bad. But even in New York…” Richie closed his eyes tightly. “You haven’t been to my shows lately. And I know it’s because I haven’t asked you to come, and I keep telling you it’s the same sets, but I’ve been… using a ghost writer.”

“Wait, someone else has been writing your jokes?” Eddie asked in disbelief.

“It was Greg’s idea,” Richie whispered, his face contorting in disgust with himself. “I kept getting chastised from people coming to the clubs, not wanting to hear any _fag_ jokes, and Greg just kept pushing me to play it off as fake and not come out completely because he was afraid I was going to get _fired_. Or let go, or what the fuck ever. And I fucking let him talk me into it because I’m a piece of shit coward and I was… I was fucking scared, Eds. I was actually scared of just being myself, so I’ve been letting some other douche canoe turn me into some weird sexist shithead of a comedian.”

“Rich,” Eddie whispered, reaching his hand over to grab Richie’s; he squeezed Eddie’s hand back immediately. “You’re not a coward. You’re so relentless and strong, there’s no way I could’ve made it without you. It doesn’t make you any less brave to not want to lose your job or, god forbid, your life.”

“I know,” said Richie, kissing the back of Eddie’s hand. “I just don’t want to worry you with this stuff with me when you got so much of your own shit going on…”

“Well, cut it out,” said Eddie. “We agreed to stop hiding stuff, remember? Neither of us is going to make it if we both can’t be there for each other.”

“You’re right,” Richie said apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie whispered, leaning forward and kissing Richie on the cheek. “We just have to work on it. You should also have a conversation with Greg when we get back…”

“New Years Resolution,” Richie said, smirking. “Maybe I should just be doing my shit at gay-friendly or gay-catering places for a while until people get their heads out of their asses. At least people still like Ellen, so there’s hope for the lesbians. Oh, speaking of lesbians; which one of us is going to break it to Bill about the barista he keeps hitting on in LA?”

“SHIT!”

Eddie practically shot up like a bullet, his heart pounding viciously in his chest.

Bill.

Alarm bells went berserk in Eddie’s head that had been trying to pry their way from the dormant subconscious below. He had been so caught up in himself over vacation since his stupid panic attack at the airport that he hadn’t been focusing on Bill as well as he should have, and now he felt like something was deeply and terribly wrong.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” Richie asked, his eyes wide.

“Richie, we need to go,” Eddie said, jumping out of the bed and looking for his boots.

“What – Eddie, what’s happening?”

“It’s – it’s Bill, he’s – he’s not here,” Eddie blurted, shoving his jacket on.

“What do you mean he’s not – ”

But Eddie didn’t answer him, running down the stairs, flipping the nearest light switch at the bottom to search around the first floor. He went into the den where Bill should have been sleeping, but both sofas were empty. Bill’s jacket and shoes were gone.

Eddie cursed under his breath as Richie barreled down the stairs after him. “Richie, we need to take your dads car. Bill left.”

“Where is he?”

“The quarry,” Eddie said immediately, pulling the answer from the recesses of his mind. It wasn’t a beach, but Bill being near any body of water made goosebumps on his flesh. “We need to go.”

Hoping they did not disturb anyone else in the house, Richie grabbed the keys for his dad’s car. Eddie also went into their closet and grabbed a small duffle bag of tools Richie’s dad kept and shoved it into the trunk of the car.

It felt like a good idea.

As much as Richie could talk out of his ass, he seemed to be getting better at knowing when to keep his mouth shut. Despite Richie having driven these roads a hundred times, Eddie still told him where to turn, keeping himself feeling useful while all he could do was wait for them to get where they needed to be.

“No, don’t drive up to the top,” Eddie said, gesturing for Richie to make a turn towards the side of the road. “Just… do me a favor and wait in the car for me OK?”

“You’re sure?” Richie asked, face full of worry. “I don’t want you wandering off into the woods by the quarry alone…”

“I won’t get lost,” Eddie assured him. “Just trust me, OK? I know where Bill is.”

Richie nodded, letting himself rest back against the seat while he watched Eddie leave towards a little clearing to a trail that led down to the clearing of the lake.

All of his years in Derry, Eddie had never been to the quarry at night like this, not from down below. Some late nights, he and Richie had deep conversations from the high above cliffs overlooking the dark water, their focus mainly on each other or the stars above them in the sky. But down here on the shores of the murky, black water under the dark sky, wind biting into Eddie’s skin harshly, it was eerie and the small body of water looked strangely infinite before him.

Bill was sitting so still in the dark and the dirt, Eddie almost stumbled into him. He sat there staring off into the quarry, knees pulled up to his chest, a hand clasped around the neck of a liquor bottle resting in the gap between his legs. It took everything Eddie had not to kick the bottle out of Bill’s hand and smash it into the dirt or throw it off into the lake. Instead, he took a deep breath and quietly sat himself down next to his friend, the sand so cold it was like he sat his ass down on ice. He wouldn’t be surprised if Bill could hear his heart, the pulse pounding as loud as drums in his own ears, but Bill barely reacted to Eddie’s presence. When he finally spoke, he didn’t ask how Eddie found him or knew where he would be.

“I never took Georgie to swim out here,” Bill said softly; his voice was steady and calm. “I was always afraid of bringing him out to the woods, all the wild areas, like maybe something awful would happen and I’d never get him home safe. I never imagined he’d die just down the street from out house, terrified and alone.”

Shivering madly now, Eddie wondered if Bill was keeping himself still with warmth from the liquor and self-hatred alone. There were no signs of shaking, no stutter to his voice when he spoke. Eddie watched him reach into his jacket pocket, pulling out what Eddie realized, even in the dark, was an empty pill bottle. His heart staggered in his chest, but Bill shook his head when he tossed the bottle into Eddie’s hand.

“I flushed the pills out his morning. That’s how I did it, right? In Bev’s dream?”

Eddie said nothing, staring down at the incriminating bottle, wanting desperately to believe Bill was telling the truth. And maybe he was, as Eddie’s urgency seemed to have dissipated hearing his words.

“I wasn’t even sick, you know; not really. My fever broke the day before and my mom had told me I would be fine. But I just didn’t want to go out and play with him that day. I let him go out into the rain by himself because I was too selfish to take care of him and watch over him. I didn’t deserve to be his big brother. I probably deserve to hold onto those pills and drown myself in this stupid lake.”

“That’s not true,” Eddie said back, finally finding the strength to speak. “None of that is true, Bill. Please, you’ve got to know that.”

“Georgie didn’t,” Bill said bitterly. “Georgie knew nothing except that he was alone and I was nowhere to help him when that fucking monster took him.”

A light bulb switched on in Eddie’s head, an idea so obvious that it made Eddie feel monumentally stupid for not having thought of it before.

“Bill, did I ever tell you I can talk to my dad?”

Bill’s eyes narrowed, his lip curling up in utter bewilderment at what Eddie had just said. One would think after the crazy shit they had gone through, seeing ghosts wouldn’t be too insane to imagine, especially for an aspiring horror novelist.

“I think it started when I was really little. Like, my dad said I would talk to myself a lot and got scared about my grandma coming into my room when I was little. When I got older I kept having dreams about him visiting me, but after I left my mom’s I realized it was really _him_. It was nice, you know, knowing he was encouraging me to be who I was and… he was the one that told me about his friend Charlie, the one who reported my mom for killing him.”

“Charlie…” Bill whispered, face screwed up in concentration while trying to remember. “Yeah… wow, I mean… that’s great for you Eddie, it really is – ”

“What I’m saying, Bill… is maybe… maybe I can talk to Georgie, too.”

Before Bill could react, Eddie leaned over and took the liquor bottle out of Bill’s hands, tossing it off somewhere behind him with a clash, and sat himself in front of Bill.

“What are you doing?”

“Give me your hands,” Eddie said, holding his own out. Bill cautiously placed both his hands on Eddie’s palm, and honestly Eddie didn’t know what the actual fuck he was doing, either. But they held hands in séances, right? Eddie had fuck all to go off of; he had never actually tried to do this before, his dad would just kind of… well, appear. It had also been quite a long time before he had even seen his dad.

“OK, uh… think of Georgie,” Eddie said awkwardly. “Like, really think about him. Don’t think about what you’re feeling about yourself right now, OK? Just try to concentrate on him.”

He felt like a dick saying it like that, but Bill, despite his look of skepticism, closed his eyes and seemingly did as Eddie asked. Eddie closed his own eyes and felt incredibly stupid. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea to bring up his ability to speak to the dead when Bill was in such a low place about his brother, given that there was a good chance nothing would come of this. The only real thing he felt like he could control was his ability to find places –

That was it. _Navigate_.

OK, focus… Eddie thought about Georgie, but with all his might thought of him in the same sense he would when he was trying to get somewhere, hoping that the physical would somehow transcend into whatever kind of supernatural territory this was entering. With a tingle of delight, Eddie felt the familiar pulling sensations he would tune out when going somewhere unknown. He kept his grip on Bill’s hands tight as his mind stretched out Eddie’s consciousness behind his physical brain.

All of the sensations stopped so abruptly, Eddie’s eyes shot open and, somehow, he managed not to scream.

There were plenty of movies that talked about the presence of the dead, how they made the hairs on your arms raise, prickling your skin, a cold chill present in the air with them. But whenever Eddie felt his father around, it was welcoming and warm in a way that made no earthly sense. Eddie had never questioned why this was, and he didn’t do so now when he felt Georgie lean down beside him and Bill, solid and whole, pressing a small hand down on Bill’s shoulder. Eddie almost said something, but Bill’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Billy got so big.”

A small eruption of laughter burst from Eddie’s chest; it wasn’t funny in the slightest, but it came out of him automatically, with a couple of warm tears streaming down his face. “Yeah, he did, didn’t he?”

Bill’s eyes opened then, his expression uneasy. It was immediately obvious that he couldn’t see Georgie there; his eyes were focused on Eddie, but he would’ve been able to see the small boy right beside him if he could, and there was no way Bill would miss an opportunity to do so. Georgie looked exactly the way Eddie remembered him, seemingly untouched by anything evil.

“I don’t like seeing him so sad,” Georgie said in his small voice. “I’m sorry she got lost, Billy,” he added softly to Bill, his head leaning down in dejection. “I couldn’t catch up with her.”

“She?” Eddie whispered, looking to Bill now for clarification. “Who did he get lost?”

Bill’s eyes widened. “The boat,” he said. “G-Georgie lost the b-boat, but… Georgie, it’s OK,” he croaked, looking down, his eyes frantically shifting at a loss of what to focus on. “I’m not – I’m not mad about the boat. I’m the one that lost you. I shouldn’t have let you go out there all alone. It’s my fault you’re gone now.”

Even in the darkness, Eddie could see the moonlight’s reflection on the tears streaking down Bill’s cheeks, and they were both – no, all three of them were crying now. To any outsider that could’ve stumbled across them here in the dark, it must have looked so utterly bizarre, to see two grown men holding hands and crying and speaking indirectly to each other. Georgie turned to Eddie, looking desperately at him.

“Tell him it’s not!” Georgie cried. “He didn’t do anything, Eddie!”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Eddie clarified thickly through his sniffling, trying to speak to both of them. “Bill, Georgie knows it wasn’t yours, either.”

Bill shook his head wildly, like he couldn’t accept it, and Georgie kept speaking to Bill, so Eddie did his best to speak for him, whispering concurrently with the small child so Bill could hear Georgie’s own words. “Billy, you played with me every day! You let me play with you and Eddie and all your friends even when mommy didn’t make you! I know you weren’t sick,” he added, voice breaking pathetically in that sad way kids’ voices do. “But it was only once, Billy. It was just one stupid rainy day you didn’t want to play. You were the best big brother I could’ve ever had.”

“He’s right, Bill,” Eddie added firmly as Bill pulled his hands away from him, still crying and unaccepting. His legs curled back up to his chest, and Eddie scooted closer, still trying to keep his mind on Georgie there next to them. “Georgie knows it wasn’t your fault, Bill; it never was. He loves you; he knows you loved him more than anything.”

Bill made sort of gargling noise, trying to catch his breath through all the wetness of his crying, wiping his face on the back of his jacket sleeve. He looked up unsteadily at Eddie. “Wh-where is he?”

Eddie looked at Georgie next to them and could see Bill staring at the spot Georgie generally was, eyes unfixed and weary.

“I want Billy to be happy again,” Georgie said sadly, Eddie quietly repeating his words still. “He’s a grown up now, he can do anything he wants and it should make him happy.”

“I just don’t know how to do that without you, Georgie,” Bill whispered back.

“You still have me, Billy. I think about you all the time and it always makes me happy. I want you to be happy when you think of me, too.”

Bill nodded, wiping his face again. “I can try, Georgie. Shit,” he muttered, hiding his face again in his knees. Eddie didn’t hesitate to get up and wrap himself around Bill, letting his friend cry freely into him. It was weird being on this side of comfort not once but twice since getting back into Derry. It was stranger, still, to have gained the strength to bear it, something Eddie knew would have been impossible months, maybe even weeks ago. He kept his arm around Bill and pressed into him tightly while Bill kept mumbling apologies and Eddie kept shushing him.

“Hey, it’s OK,” Eddie said. “This is probably really overwhelming right now, but we can talk to him again, OK? Maybe right now, we can just… get you home, yeah? We can get you sobered up, Maggie will fix you up a cocoa in the morning.”

Bill hiccupped a small laugh under Eddie shifting to pull himself back up to Eddie’s level. His face was a damn mess, his legs a little unsteady, but Eddie managed to help him up. Eddie was sure his mind was a jumbled mess of all sorts of weird shit, crying half in sorrow still, but half in a weird kind of joy.

Bill smiled at Eddie and opened his mouth to speak, but his face fell almost instantly. They had been so focused on each other that Eddie did not notice the way his stomach dropped or the dread raising the hairs on the back of his neck. The only things he had time to comprehend in the two seconds they were standing up were the way Bill’s eyes widened as they stared at something beyond Eddie’s shoulder and the glint of silver in the reflection of them before the knife speared through Eddie’s cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY


	14. Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been so excited to get to this point. I hope the pacing has been OK for everyone into this story, and I really hope you're liking it!
> 
> TW for this chapter: descriptions of violence and blood, sexual assault (non-graphic threats), homophobic language

Fuck.

This is fine.

This is totally fine.

OK, no, shit, this really hurts, it’s definitely not fine.

Eddie was already tasting the thick, iron-rich blood pouring into his mouth; it was almost rusty, but he supposed that was from the sharp metal blade that he could feel sticking against his tongue through his cheek. Several people were screaming and it took Eddie a few seconds to process it before he recognized his own voice gurgling through the sticky blood dripping down his throat. In his peripherals he caught Bill spring into action, briefly colliding with another body there on the shores of the quarry lake before being overpowered. There was a loud smack, dull and blunt, and Eddie knew the person had punched Bill hard in the face. But Eddie was still stepping back, his hand hovering just inches from his face, afraid to touch the knife wedged into his cheek. It wasn’t until the person started laughing that Eddie finally looked up to his attacker, his heart lurching in his chest.

It probably went without saying that he did not expect to see Henry Bowers on his Christmas break.

“Hey, Eddie,” Henry sneered, stepping forward towards him. He looked like he had aged about 20 years in the last 9 since Eddie saw him last. “You miss me?”

The situation was so absurd, Eddie couldn’t bring himself to say anything rational, instead blurting out, “ _Why_?” his voiced strained from trying not to move his jaw too much against the blade jiggling around in his mouth.

Henry started laughing, sending chills down Eddie’s spine. There was something deeply wrong here. Henry was always a bully, but he looked absolutely mad right now, much like he did the night they went into the sewers to kill It. But Henry was possessed by It then; there’s no way this could be the case now, could it? Surely this was some residual effect of being possessed by a clown-demon and murdering three people, right?

“They’re starving for you, Eddie,” Henry giggled chaotically, still walking slowly towards Eddie. “Mama gave Them a taste for you Losers and They’re dying for more.”

“Wh-who? What are you – _ahhh_ ,” Eddie winced, feeling his flesh tear more against the blade.

“I’m gonna drag your faggot ass down into the gutter where it belongs,” Henry continued, leering down at Eddie menacingly – Jesus, he had grown into a big dude, and Eddie was still so goddamn _small_. “You’re all gonna rot down there like you should’ve done in the first place. But don’t worry – it’ll all be over soon. Now gimme back my fucking knife!”

Henry lunged at Eddie, both arms outstretched. Eddie’s reflexes finally kicked in and he somehow managed to _pull the fucking knife out of his cheek_ and thrust it forward, plunging it into Henry’s sternum with sickening little _snap_ , like he had just jammed it into the thick skin of an apple, since that was the only thing Eddie could compare it to, since he had never fucking _stabbed_ someone before. Henry’s weight was thrown on top of him simultaneously, Eddie’s back falling on the cold sand with a thud, Henry’s knife sticking deeper into Henry’s chest. The psycho was still laughing like a maniac above him. Eddie pulled a leg up to knee Henry off of him, the knife sliding out so Eddie could stick it in again and again and _again._ With the last blow, Henry’s face contorted to anger, reaching down and grabbing Eddie’s wrist harshly and throwing his arm up over his head and pinning it to the ground. Eddie could feel the hilt of the knife pressing down into his stomach while Henry leaned down.

“I’ve always wanted to fucking kill you,” Henry spat. “I always bet you would’ve loved my cock rammed down your fucking throat before I slit it open and watch you bleed out. I bet that you still want it now, huh? You want me to fuck you into the dirt while I spill out your guts, you filthy fucking fa – hhhng!”

Henry’s face was thrust forward briefly and Eddie’s face was splattered with more blood, Henry’s face now frozen in an expression of shock. For a moment everything was completely still until Henry’s body lolled over to the side to reveal Richie, wide eyed and bewildered, standing over Eddie like some sort of superhero in a Hawaiian shirt and puffy coat.

“Richie!” Eddie screamed, smacking himself internally because it fucking _hurt_ to open his mouth.

Richie’s hands were frozen in front of him like they were holding onto some invisible fishing pole, and Eddie looked over and saw an axe buried in the back of Henry’s head. Holy _shit_.

“I guess that was _aboat_ time I did that,” Richie said with a hysterical little giggle. “Get it? A boat? Because we’re by the lake – oh fuck – ” Richie leaned over and immediately retched, vomit spilling out into the dirt.

Eddie stood up on shaky legs, pressing his palm into his cheek with as much pressure as he could muster, unable to take his eyes off of Bowers. “Richie, you… you fucking killed him. You just killed Bowers.”

Richie responded by throwing up again, so Eddie tore his eyes off of the body and attended to him the best he could. He didn’t want to take his hand off of his wound, but Bill had started stirring again, rolling over onto his back and groaning.

“Bill!” Eddie exclaimed, running over to him. “Shit, are you OK?”

“Am _I_ OK?” Bill shouted incredulously at Eddie. “Dude, you just got fucking _stabbed_!”

Eddie felt Richie’s hands on him, turning him around to try to assess Eddie’s face. He was trying not to focus on the smell of blood and vomit surrounding him.

“Richie, where did you get that axe?”

“From my dad’s tool bag,” Richie said, his voice shaking. “Good thinking of you to bring it. Jesus, Eds, you need to get this fixed up.”

“Is it bad?” Eddie asked stupidly, blood spilling down his lips. Richie was right; Eddie could feel the blood dripping down and off of his chin, pouring out of his mouth every time he spoke and he was trying so hard not to swallow any of it. But now they were standing here with a dead body, one of Richie’s father’s tools stuck into his skull.

“We need to get rid of that,” Eddie said, pointing his foot towards Henry. “This town might be full of idiots, but I’m sure they’ll have no problem linking that back to Wentworth.”

“Fuck – shit, you’re right,” Richie muttered, pulling his shirt collar up to cover his mouth and nose, cautiously making his way over to the body. Bill got up to help him and Eddie felt his own stomach twist in his guts, gagging at that gross wet sounds of them trying to pull the axe out without all their adrenaline to strengthen them. There was a loud wet _snap_ and spray of blood as Richie finally managed to yank the axe back out.

“I’m gonna vomit,” he moaned, holding the tool gingerly between two fingers away from him like it would become sentient and attack him. “Oh my god, I’m going to be fucking sick again.”

“Don’t,” Eddie warned, desperate to not want to deal with blood _and_ vomit pouring out of the hole in his cheek.

“Where the fuck did he come from?” Bill asked, staring intently at Henry’s body as if it would come to life and answer him.

“Looks like staff was cut short for the holidays at the hospital,” Richie muttered. “The real question is, why the fuck is this lunatic still trying to murder us? And _why_ does he still have that fucking mullet?”

Eddie tried to wrap his head around what Henry had said – not so much the rape and murder threats, which Eddie was still shaking from, but about what he said about the sewers. “He sounded like he was still talking about It,” he said. “He mentioned us being fed to something, taking us back down to the sewers. I don’t know what the fuck he meant.”

Richie shook his head. “He’s just crazy. His brain was all rotting and evil. There’s no way he could’ve meant anything more than that.”

“But he didn’t say It,” Eddie whispered. “He said… _Them_. He said _They_ are starving for us.” Eddie was smart enough by now to know not to ignore his gut; right now, it was telling him to pay attention. To what, he didn’t know, but something was very wrong. Bill and Richie exchanged worried looks. The longer they stood here next to a dead body in the dead of night, with Eddie ripping his wound open more with every rippling shiver of his body in the cold, the worse off they’d be. None of them needed to ask to know where they had to go next; they had to find the others.

“Ew, ew, ew, ew,” Richie kept muttering in the backseat, pinching Eddie’s wound closed with his fingers. Eddie felt more blood squeeze out, but it was coming out less and less with each minute that passed.

“Turn left, Bill,” Eddie ordered, swiping Richie’s hands away; he loved him to death, but he was being more pestering than helpful right now. “Stop pinching my fucking cheek.”

“Shouldn’t we go back and get Mike?” Bill asked, stopping the car at an intersection.

“He’s not home,” Eddie said confidently. “Go to the library.”

“The library?” Richie and Bill asked simultaneously.

“They’re all there. Just trust me.”

Bill obeyed, turning Wentworth’s car left and away from Richie’s house. Eddie looked down at his lap in disgust.

“It’s going to take forever to get the blood out of my jeans. I’m also pretty sure your dad’s car is ruined.”

“Is – is that seriously what you’re taking as the most pressing issue right now?” Richie stammered

“I’m allowed to have simultaneous concerns, Richie,” Eddie argued, pressing his palm into his cheek again. It stung terribly and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what kind of infection he could get. He stuck his tongue into the hole, feeling it slip through between the thick muscles of his face, tasting the fresh metallic blood and the cold air on the tip of his tongue as it stuck out of his cheek, but he pulled it back in when Richie started gagging and turned his head away.

“You know, between your mom, Bowers, and the coffee shop guy, you’re really starting to look like a regular Bond villain, sweetheart.”

“What do you think they’re going to do about the body at the quarry?” Bill asked from the front.

“I’m trying not to think about it,” Eddie muttered, just as they pulled up to the front of the library. It was late, but Stan’s rental car and another unknown vehicle were both in front of the library, the front doors wide open to reveal a light from inside.

“Guess we’re fashionably late,” Richie said, getting out and leaning down to help Eddie slide carefully out of the car without hurting himself further.

The three of them walked into the library to find a scene just as chaotic as the one they had just left. Mike was grimacing on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass, Penelope and Ben both kneeling beside him to help wrap up his arm with some bandages from a first aid kit Eddie was sure they got from one of the back offices. Beverly was shaking (from fear or her lack of jacket, Eddie didn’t know), smoking a cigarette beside them. Stanley was crouched down on the floor leaning over a book, frantically flipping through the pages. 

“Didn’t think to invite us to the party?” Richie announced loudly, startling them all.

“Where the fuck have you guys been?” Penny shrieked, standing up and stomping towards them. “Where the fuck were you guys going at nearly fucking midnight – oh my god, Eddie, your face!”

The others looked up at him and Beverly quickly tossed her cigarette to steal the med kit from Ben, rushing over to Eddie and helping him sit down on one of the benches.

“Not to say I’m not a big supporter of education, but why the fuck are you all in the library?” Richie asked; it was a reasonable question. “What the fuck happened here?”

“We heard you guys leave,” Mike explained. “Penny and I called Ben and Stan’s house, but obviously none of you were with them. I figured something fishy was going on, so I came back here to get that,” he said, pointing out the old book on the floor that Stan was going through. “It was really handy when I was reading up on It, it’s the old historical manuscript from the Shokopiwah tribe; it’s where I found out about the Ritual of Chüd we used to kill It last time. I thought maybe it would have some answers as to what’s been going on with Bev’s dreams and maybe help us figure out what you guys were doing.”

“Killed – killed _what_?” Penny gasped, but none of them seemed to hear her.

“Yeah, which was all fine and dandy until we came in here and ran into Henry fucking Bowers,” said Stan.

“Henry was here?” Bill asked. “Is that how your arm got fucked up?”

“It might be broken,” Ben muttered quietly, trying to fix the arm with a flat block of wood. “He attacked Mike but must’ve realized he was outnumbered pretty quickly with Stan and Penny here. He ran out of here and drove off somewhere just as I showed up with Beverly.”

“Well, it looks like we figured out where he went,” Bev said bitterly, cleaning off Eddie face. “You guys don’t seem to be at all surprised by this.” The antiseptic stung, but Eddie tried to focus on what the endgame was right now.

“Did he say anything to you guys when he was here?” Eddie asked.

“Just that he wanted me to burn and crisp like fried fucking chicken,” Mike said bitterly.

“That, and that we weren’t done with yet,” Stan added.

“Where is he now?” asked Ben.

“Dead,” said Richie.

“Richie stuck an axe into his skull,” Bill said, his lips twisting into a humorless smile. “Not going to lie, it was pretty badass before he started puking.”

“Jesus, Rich…” Penny whispered, staring at her brother in bewilderment.

“He was going to kill Eddie!” Richie shouted. “What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

“No one is saying you didn’t do the right thing, sweetie” Bev said comfortingly to him, sticking a needle through Eddie’s cheek. “Sorry, Eddie honey, I don’t have anything to numb it with…”

“S’fine,” Eddie muttered, wincing through the pain. Richie came over and sat beside him, reaching over to let Eddie squeeze his hand through Bev stitching him up.

“It’s not like we haven’t killed before,” Bill said without thinking.

“Wait, what?” Penny exclaimed, looking at them all incredulously. “What do you mean you’ve – you’ve killed before? What the fuck is this ‘It’ you guys killed?”

“Well, the cats out of the bag now,” Richie said, throwing his unoccupied hand up. “Mikey, she’s your girlfriend now, you tell her.”

“Honey,” Mike started slowly. “Do you remember the disappearances of all those kids here in Derry when we were kids? What was it, ’89?”

“Yeah…” she replied quietly. “Wasn’t – wasn’t it Bowers that did it all?”

“Well, we… actually found something else,” Mike continued. “We found their bodies in the sewers being held by… uh…”

“A shape-shifting evil space clown demon,” Richie finished abruptly. “I know it sounds fucking insane – ”

“You mean like a clown that lived in the drains?” Penny asked quietly.

“Yes!” said Mike. Because it made sense that Penny may have run into It. She was only two years below them, they had saved her just as much as anyone else in this town. “Did you ever talk to It? Something that was trying to lure you somewhere?”

“I just… I just chalked it up to my imagination,” she said, her eyes widened with fear. “I was just a kid, I – I thought my mind was playing tricks on me because of all those kids going missing and I was just being paranoid. I was trying not to go into high school telling the school counselor I heard voices talking to me in the bathtub.”

“Well, very unfortunately, it was real,” Stan deadpanned. “This – ” he lifted up the book he was holding, “ – had the instructions for how to kill It, kind of. Mikey said we had to learn how to do it by making a kind of smoke-hole – ”

“A what?”

“We basically hot-boxed in the club house,” Richie shrugged. “It was wild. We saw dinosaurs and shit.”

“Dinosaurs,” Penelope intoned.

“Yes, dinosaurs,” Richie scoffed, as if it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing. “God was there, and He was a turtle – ”

“The point,” Stan interrupted. “Is that Richie and Mike were able to see how It had got here in the first place, like millions of years ago, and we figured out how to kill It through a ritual, a battle of wits in the mind. But we fucking did it – well, mostly thanks to Bill and Eddie, because Bill is relentless and Eddie has fucking super powers for some reason.”

“ _Did_ we finish it, though?” Eddie asked.

“Eddie, stop talking,” Bev warned, still stitching up his cheek.

“What do you mean?” Ben asked cautiously.

“OK, so it’s no secret now, as I’m sure we all know that Beverly is still seeing her visions from the Deadlights,” Richie said.

“What are the – ”

“Penelope, I love you, but I don’t have time to go over the intricate details of everything,” Richie huffed. “So Bev is still seeing us all _die_ , and one by one each of us is slowly losing our minds.”

“We’ve been handling it, though,” Stan interjected. “I’m fine now. Eddie got help, plus his diagnosis and everything…”

“That’s not just it though, is it?” Bill asked. “I’m sure we’re all really fucked up and stuff now, but… I didn’t just feel like I usually do when I was depressed. This morning I – I felt like I was possessed. I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m still alive is because Bev warned me and I threw out all my medication before I took it. I probably would’ve been dead before Eddie found me at the quarry. Besides, we don’t know that just because it happens once doesn’t mean it can’t happen again.”

Poor Penelope still looked so hopelessly confused, but Stan and Eddie both nodded. It was true that his mental illness was concurrent with what was going on last year. But what Bill had just said, that was exactly how he would have, and had indeed described it – like he was possessed. Since then, he was sure all of his feelings were still valid, supernatural or not, but there was something special and haunting about the night he had tried to hang himself. The act itself felt unnervingly forced upon him. Eddie looked up at Richie and gestured for him to keep going.

“Anyway, as I was saying… when Bowers attacked Eddie, he… he mentioned something. Not ‘It,’ but a ‘ _Them_.’ Like, more than one entity.”

“But he was fucking crazy!” Stan protested.

“Yeah, because Pennywise was fucking possessing him,” Ben countered.

“So is there an _It_ or is there now a _Them_?”

“We know just as much as you, Stan,” Richie said. “But it might be worth a shot to stop by good ole’ Neibolt and check it out.”

Eddie sighed as Beverly cleaned up around his stitches, his cheek finally closed up. “I think Richie’s right. We need to go back down there and see it for ourselves. Best case scenario, we find nothing, take showers, and all forget this ever happened.”

“What about the worst case scenario?” Stan asked ominously.

They all looked around at each other in silence, the air tense with dread that they all feared they knew exactly what the worst case scenario would be.

Eddie could feel his palm tingling. 

_“Eds, are you OK?”_

_It was a beautiful spring day in Derry. Richie had just gotten his driver’s license, but without a car yet, and no point in passing down the opportunity for a walk, he turned down Mike’s kind offer for a ride and he found himself walking Eddie home from school. But Eddie had stopped short, feeling his skin prickling as if he had just stepped into a freezer, despite how warm the sun felt blazing down on him. They were standing right in front of the old house on Neibolt._

_“This place still gives me the creeps,” Richie said, turning back to stand next to Eddie._

_That was an understatement, Eddie thought to himself. This place wasn’t just old and creepy; it felt evil. They, along with their friends, were likely the only people alive that knew the horrors that happened beneath the foundation of this house. Eddie still had nightmares about it now and then, though he did his best not to bring it up to the other Losers, worried that they might dote on him too much about it. Besides, he had enough going on trying to get through high school with the body size of a twelve-year-old, his overbearing mother, and the secret burden of being gay in a town like this, even keeping it hidden from his friends._

_“It feels almost alive, doesn’t it?” Eddie found himself saying. “Sometimes, it – it still feels like it’s watching me.”_

_To his surprise, Richie started laughing. “Eddie, it’s just a house. There’s nothing left there anymore.”_

_“How – how can you be so sure?”_

_Richie rolled his eyes and stepped forward towards the house, and Eddie felt a visceral panic, reaching out and grabbing Richie’s hand in his own._

_“Don’t!” he shouted, still staring up at the old building. “Seriously, Richie, don’t go in there!”_

_Despite his mind trying to rationalize otherwise, Eddie still stared at the house in fear, terrified that something was still lurking in there. Perhaps it was just his fear itself that was hiding in the shadows of that house, but he didn’t care. Richie was oddly silent, and Eddie looked over to see him looking back and down at their hands interlocked._

_“Sorry,” Eddie said, feeling himself blush scarlet and pulling his hand away._

_Richie blinked down at his hand a few times like he was dazed, finally looking back up at Eddie, his cheeks flushing pink. God, if Richie knew all the twisted thoughts Eddie had in his head about him; the unhealthy amount of times Eddie imagined holding his hand down the street like – like a couple, the amount of times he thought about_ kissing _Richie..._

_“Stop looking at me like that,” Eddie muttered, turning on his heal to keep walking home. “God, you’re looking at me like you’re_ gay _for me or something…”_

_Richie quickly jogged back up to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pinching his cheek. “Well, stop being so goddamn cute and holding my hand – ”_

_“Quit it, you jerk!” Eddie laughed, pushing Richie’s hand off of his face, but doing nothing about Richie’s arm around him, relishing the feeling. He was tired of feeling so sick over every time Richie touched him, but at least, even if Richie suspected anything, he never acted grossed out by Eddie, even now as Eddie allowed himself to lean his head into Richie while they walked. And Richie just let him, arm still squeezing around Eddie tight. Even if Richie never felt that way about him, he wouldn’t give up this friendship for anything in the world._

_“Let’s get you home before your mom has a conniption, Spaghetti.”_

_“Don’t call me that,” Eddie teased, not really caring. He turned his head and took one last look back at the house, his stomach dropping at the sight of it. It was a silly thing to be scared of, a big empty house. They knew It was dead; Beverly still remembered them after all this time out of Derry, and that, Mikey had said, was one of the curses It left on the town: memory loss. But they had killed It. It was over. But there was something terribly dreadful about how that house felt, something about it that felt pulsating, something that felt alive, like something, deep down somewhere in its depths, was still reaching out and up to the light of day, trying to breath._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, having Penny here is such a useful tool for giving exposition and showing how the Losers dealt with Pennywise the first time around, mixing in some elements of the book and film.   
> As always, stay safe and stay tuned!


	15. My dark days didn’t make me strong; they made me prove it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! This chapter is a tad short, but boy oh boy is it leading to something.  
> You may notice a bit of familiarity here.
> 
> Also, over 1000 hits!! I’m blessed, thank you!
> 
> Anyhoo, enjoy! Thank you so much for your kudos and feedback, it's always appreciated!

Stanley’s rental was completely silent by the time they had reached Neibolt. The car ride was not nearly as long as Richie and Penelope’s argument prior to all 8 of them cramming into the vehicle on top of each other. Eddie sat on Richie’s lap in the back and could see Richie still glaring at her from over his shoulder while she sat in the front passenger’s seat on Mike’s lap. Richie was not too keen on Penelope coming (and really, none of them wanted to do this), since she had no idea what she was in for if things really were going to go south. One could hear how tight Stanley’s grip on the steering wheel was every time he turned the wheel, and Eddie knew that he must be thinking about Patty back in New York and how it was far too late for him to give her a call before they went on their mission.

God, he missed New York. The worst thing that could happen to him going underground was finding someone pissing in the subway. Sure, he might get mugged, but a few punches to the face for a smart mouth was nothing compared to the things they had seen in this small little Maine town. He felt so much safer in his huge, concrete jungle.

Something about the thin blanket of snow covering its surfaces, shining and sparkling brightly under the full moon light, almost made the house look normal, but they all knew otherwise. The house stood dark and gaunt beneath the glistening layer of lies, otherwise having not changed a bit since they had seen it last. Eddie was reminded that his own childhood home was not far from here; that thought did nothing to comfort him. There was nothing but horror left in either structure.

There wasn’t much from the trunk of the car except two flashlights, a first aid kit (which was really just a package of Band-Aids and hand sanitizer, which Eddie happily stashed in his pocket), a shovel, and a carjack. Not knowing what they were really getting into, they took it all. They paused in front of the steps to the entrance and seven heads turned towards Bill, who looked back at them all uneasily.

“What is it?”

“Just waiting for our fearless leader to make his grand speech,” Richie said.

Bill chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, well, unlike last time, I have no idea why we’re even here.”

Beverly bent down and picked up some of the iron rods splayed about the yard. “Shit, my hands are already freezing.”

“Maybe we should take a rain check until summertime,” Richie muttered. They were all shivering. “It’s going to be fucking freezing once we get down to the sewers.”

“No,” Eddie said immediately. “I’m not risking it.” _Because you’re next_ , he thought, but kept it to himself as he met eyes with Beverly. If there was literally anything Eddie could do to prevent it, even if it meant dealing with Pennywise 2.0, he was going all in.

“Do we want to draw straws again?” Stan suggested; whether he was joking or not, nobody could say.

“I suggested it last time, but we could measure dicks – ”

“Richie, you know damn well Eddie and I would safely be waiting out here for your dumbass if we did.”

“Enough dick talk,” Mike groaned while Richie stuck his tongue out at Stanley. “We only have a few hours until sunrise. Let’s get this over with before anyone’s parents call the cops and make this weird. We don’t want any reason for them to think we had anything to do with the body at the quarry or the mess in the library.”

One by one, they entered Neibolt. It stunk of death and rot, every surface of the place covered in grime. Eddie immediately started gagging and found himself reaching into his pocket by reflex, even though it had been years since he had any sort of inhaler. This time, though, he had Richie to openly comfort him, one of his long arms wrapping around Eddie and pulling him tightly into Richie’s side.

“Hey,” Richie whispered. “Stay close to me, OK? No matter what happens, stick with me.”

Richie’s voice was not as steady as Eddie knew he wanted it to be. Eddie looked up at Richie’s weary face, all sharp-featured and dark, age lines already creasing into his once completely smooth skin. It could have been the lighting in the dreary old house, or maybe the fear cloaking his features, or maybe this is just what happened to you after the kind of thing they had went through, but he looked much older than he was in this moment. It broke Eddie’s heart any time Richie wasn’t happy. He reached up and gently grazed the stubble on Richie’s chin.

“Rich… if something happens – if I don’t get out of there – ”

“Eds – ”

“ – will you tell Matthew Perry I love him? Once you get rich and famous and all.”

Richie’s face screwed up incredulously down at him. “Chandler? Really?”

Eddie patted his belly. “I have a soft spot for goofballs.”

Richie rolled his eyes, but he seemed to relax, kissing Eddie softly atop of his head.

“God, if this shit gets crazy and we make it out alive, I’m going to fuck you until you start hearing colors.”

“Beep, beep, Richie,” Stan muttered.

Penelope looked lost, her eyes wildly searching the house around them, Mike gently leading her with his hand on her shoulder. No one wanted to waste any time, but they all kept vigilant, scanning their surroundings as they made their way to the stairs that led down to the well.

“Personally, I love what they’ve done to the place,” said Richie.

“Shut the fuck up, dude,” Stan groaned, growing impatient.

“The house feels like it’s breathing,” Ben whispered. He was entirely right, Eddie thought, feeling the house creak and moan under their feet almost felt rhythmic and menacing.

“It could be our imagination,” Mike reasoned, his voice more hopeful than confident.

Nothing seemed to lurk in the shadows of the house as they made their way through its rooms to get down into the basement where the well still stood.

“Shit,” Eddie muttered when they got to the well. “How am I going to shimmy down this thing?”

“Here,” said Richie, crouching down for Eddie to straddle his back. Eddie hesitated at first, but hopped up, wrapping his arm around Richie’s neck and squeezing his legs around him tightly. “Got it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said nervously. It was exactly how they made it down the well last time when Eddie had on his cast, and Richie had grown to be twice the size since then, so Eddie was sure it would be fine.

“I’ll go first,” Bill said. “I’ll be right under you if you feel yourself slip, Eds.”

It somehow felt as if no time had passed at all as the damp darkness of the walls surrounded them as Richie submerged himself down the well. His arm and legs clamped tighter around Richie as they climbed down before he felt Bill’s outstretched arms reaching out to help them down.

“Fuck me,” Richie muttered, looking down into the depths of the drains. “It’s like déjà fucking vu.”

“Except hopefully this is all for nothing,” said Bill, who was now helping Stan down.

Once his feet hit the solid ground, Eddie didn’t know how he didn’t spill down into a puddle. His legs were trembling and the inside of his head was echoing with the chatter of his teeth. Sure, it was bitter cold down here, but Eddie knew better than to think that was the sole cause of it. His insides twisted in his guts as the unpleasant memories rushed back. His eyes darted over to Stan, and while it was often hard to tell, especially now in the dark, he still had faint teeth marks all around his face. In all honesty, all of them had scars from this place, whether visible or not. Eddie had no idea that all that he had been through in the past year would lead him right back to this fucking place.

“This is unbelievable,” said Penelope in a shaky voice. “You guys came down here when you were _thirteen_? I’m practically shitting myself right now.”

“Well, it is a sewer,” said Richie. “No one will probably notice if you do.”

Eddie hardly noticed that he was somewhat leading the way; Richie kept a firm grip on his shoulder, Beverly stood to his other side with her fence posts, and Bill somewhat ahead of him, but always looking over his shoulder to check where Eddie was going. The deeper they went, the colder it got, their bodies sinking further and deeper into the rising water and it felt like it was seeping into their bones. Then, once they reached the center of the cistern, Eddie’s heart started hammering against his ribcage violently; he felt like the only reason he was able to move forward was Richie’s grip on him.

“Shit,” Ben breathed. “This is it. This is where it happened.”

The entire area was filled with a disgusting flood of water now. The large mountain of toys and stolen items from children was gone. Instead, in its center, was a large pile of broken wood and debris like a little island of junk.

“This is where we fought It,” Mike said, either in remembrance for himself or explanation to Penny. “But this isn’t where we need to be…”

“What do you mean?” asked Ben, his eyes looking up to make sure there were no floating bodies there.

Mike pointed ahead, across what was basically now a lake surrounding the little island in the center with a wood surface. Eddie’s heart plunged into his stomach when he realized they would need to swim to get there.

“Shitshitshitshit,” Stan stammered as his body sunk down, the water now up to his chest. “We just _had_ to do this shit in fucking December.”

“W-would it be any less g-gross in the summer?” Bill stuttered through his shivers.

Eddie and Beverly relied a great deal on their partners to keep from sinking completely in. Richie wrapped around Eddie’s waist with Eddie’s feet atop of his while he tread through the water, Eddie only mildly helping by doggy paddling along with his arm. He was really regretting not changing out of his pajamas right now.

“My cheek is g-going to get so infected in this shit.”

“N-next time we’re going to get you a b-baby carrier,” Richie shivered against Eddie’s back.

“ _Next time_?”

Mike opened some sort of hatch atop the elevated land, a circular wooden opening with carvings on it in the center. It was surrounded by these long, twisted pipes that looked like tentacles reaching out of the water. One by one, they lowered themselves in, and Eddie readied himself to hop onto Richie’s back again, but Richie wasn’t budging. Eddie craned around and could see Richie’s face frozen in fear as he stared down at the hatch opening.

“Rich?” Eddie whispered. “C’mon, we gotta follow the others.”

Eddie went to grab Richie’s hand; he felt stiff, shaky… terrified. When Eddie touched him, Richie squeezed his hand back so hard his fingertips went numb almost immediately.

“I – I can’t. I can’t go down there.” Something about Richie’s voice made Eddie’s insides go hot and for a moment he was sure he was going to vomit. He swallowed it down and tried to speak as soothingly as he could.

“Rich, it’ll be OK,” Eddie said, despite the growing pit of dread in his gut. “We all have each other, just like last time.”

Richie shook his head vigorously. “I don’t think I can do this, Eds… something – something feels wrong. I can’t go down, I – I’m too scared.”

His voice was so small and Eddie was taken back to when they were kids again. To his best ability, he tried squeezing Richie’s hand back in his tight grip.

“You can do this, Richie.”

“No, I can’t,” he croaked.

Eddie huffed. “Richie, who killed a psychotic clown before he was fourteen?”

Richie tore his eyes away from the hatch and blinked down at Eddie, uncertain. “We – we did?”

“Who saved my life by burying his dad’s axe into Bowers skull?”

Richie’s grip on Eddie’s hand started to slacken. “Me.”

“That’s right,” Eddie said encouragingly. “Who spends every weekend making a fool of himself by spilling goofy versions of his personal life in front of complete strangers?”

“That’s just rude,” Richie said, but Eddie could hear the teasing in his voice.

“Who saved my life and wrestled a shotgun from my mom after she blew my freaking shoulder to bits and ran me all the way to the hospital? Who manages to shove all his insecurities and his own depression down to take care of his stupid boyfriend and always make sure he’s all right after all these years?”

“Eds…” Richie started, but Eddie reached up and covered his mouth.

“Beep beep, asshole. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You have been through so much shit and no matter how much you struggle you still constantly take care of me and spend your time making other people laugh and feel happy. You’re a complete goofball and you’re unabashedly insane and you are one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. Now cut the shit and carry me down the tunnel so we can take care of whatever shit show is waiting for us so we can fuck it up together.”

Under his palm, he felt Richie’s lips turn up into a small smile as he reached up to grab Eddie’s hand, press it firmer against him so he could kiss it. “I love you, Spagheds.”

“I love you, too, dickhead. Now bend that sweet ass over so I can straddle you.”

Eddie climbed on Richie’s back again, feeling a strange mixture of bravery, adoration, and the taste of bile in the back of his throat. Having Richie made this easier, but it did not suppress the trepidation building up under his skin. Beverly was waiting with Ben at the hatch for them, and she handed Richie one of the fence posts.

“Here, take this. It kills monsters.”

Richie adjusted Eddie on his back so he could take it from Bev, eyeing it with apprehension. “It does?”

“Yeah,” said Bev. “If you believe it does.”

They looked down the hatch and the opening looked like a long rocky tunnel. There were no ropes or handles, so Richie climbed down carefully, Eddie allowing him to press his back into the wall for balance now and then when he needed a rest. The others waited patiently at the bottom and they felt Mike’s hands reach up to help them ease out and down to the solid ground. It was strange how much light there was down here, even with just their measly little flashlights. A greenish glow seemed to stretch along all the surfaces. It took Eddie a few moments to realize the others were looking at him expectedly.

“Oh, right. This way,” he said, pointing off towards what looked like a dead end until they stepped closer. A small gap between the rocks would allow them to continue on if they belly-crawled through and Eddie already felt claustrophobic thinking about squeezing through. Bill immediately dropped to his knees and crawled down to push himself through the gap and the others followed their fearless leader dutifully.

“This is insane,” Penny muttered after she pulled herself up. “This is absolutely batshit insane.”

“Probably should’ve added this as a clause on our dating contract,” Mike laughed ruefully.

“Yeah, well… I suppose couples that get through shit like this can get through anything.”

Eddie immediately looked up at Richie and he was staring right back at him, a tender and encouraging smile on his face. Penelope didn’t even know the half of it yet.

“What the ever loving fuck is that thing?” Stan asked.

They all looked ahead and saw a strange formation of rock that Eddie could only describe as a ‘splash’ that had solidified midway. It was almost cartoonish, and he imagined a great big asteroid in the center of it with a large fiery tail.

“Holy shit,” Richie gasped. “Mike… this is it. This is where we saw It in the smoke-hole.”

“This is where It landed,” Mike confirmed softly. “Millions of years ago… this is where It fell.”

“Insane,” Penelope repeated, staring over at the Splash.

All at once, they were all doubled over and gagging as a wave of putrid odor washed over them. It was a miracle that Eddie wasn’t throwing up yet, dry heaving and covering his face to block out the stench. The smell was otherworldly, like something you’d expect to smell when you entered the bowels of hell itself, piercing sharply through their senses and making their eyes water.

“What the fuck,” cried Bev. “What the actual _fuck_ is that?”

The sheer terror that it _was_ something and not absolutely nothing was overpowering. The hope that this was just a paranoid journey into their past died immediately, because there was _something_ down here and they could all feel it. Eddie did not want to venture any closer to the Splash, but Mike and Bill both stepped forward, their arms over their faces as if it were any help with the smell. The rest of them slowly followed not far behind, all still cautious and weary.

“Can you see what’s in there?” Ben called up to the others.

“I hope it’s a puppy.”

“Richie, I swear,” Stan groaned, whacking Richie on the shoulder.

Eddie couldn’t help but look around, catching himself staring up at the endless cave above them. There was no source of light, yet the green glow was everywhere, scattered about the wet, cold stone around them. Something dark and thick was dripping off of the sharp rocky spikes around them and Eddie’s stomach plummeted when he realized they were dripping _up_ instead of down. All of this was so wrong. Nothing should be down here. They had fucking killed It. Why was something still down here?

“Oh, fuck!” Bill shouted, stopping short as he reached a gap in the splash, staring down at the center of it.

“Jesus Christ…” Mike muttered, reaching his hand back to keep Penelope or the others from coming closer.

“What? What the fuck is it?” Stan shouted up at them.

“Nothing,” Richie said frantically. “There isn’t anything fucking there because we killed him. He’s fucking dead.”

“ _She,_ Richie,” Bill muttered. “It was a she.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for misgendering the crazy fucking space monster,” Richie huffed impatiently.

“Richie,” Mike said sternly, looking back at them in terror. “She… she laid _eggs_.”

“I’m sorry, _what_?!”

Despite his panic, Eddie knew he _had_ to look for himself and see what they were talking about. They moved forward, the air around them so thick Eddie could taste it on his tongue and it was reminiscent of the vomit that the leper had thrown up all over him as a kid. He peered between his friends and laid his gaze in the center of the Splash; sure enough, at least a dozen or so eggs were tucked together there.

The eggs were unlike anything Eddie could imagine a creature from earth laying. They were startlingly black, each like a tiny pierce in the fabric of time and space around them. Their shells swirled with life. They reminded Eddie of those optical illusions that hurt your eyes and only moved in your peripheral vision and he was terrified to take his eyes off of them for fear that one would disappear.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” hissed Ben, startling them all in the silence. “Let’s destroy these fuckers.”

Eddie felt a rumbling, slow vibration under his feet.

“What are we supposed to destroy them with, Benny boy?” Richie retorted.

“We have weapons,” Ben said, lifting the shovel he had taken from the trunk.

“Guys,” Eddie whispered. None of them heard him.

“Yeah, and what the fuck is in the eggs? We don’t know what’s going to hatch if we smash them and crack them open.”

Eddie’s eyes followed the trail of dancing pebbles on the ground, looking up through the Splash at the eggs, which were making a low hissing sound.

“We don’t have a choice,” Mike said confidently. “Whatever is in these things, we need to act… fast…”

His voice trailed off as he looked at Eddie and followed his gaze over to the eggs. The shells continued to swirl and shake and the more Eddie felt the fear rise up in his chest, the stronger the rumbling beneath them became. Because that’s what Henry said, wasn’t it? They had tasted their fear before. Pennywise made sure to plant that fear in Beverly’s head long ago, and they were feeding off of them all now, like a buffet that had been delivered on a silver fucking platter into their dark little home. They had been in Derry this whole week, all secretly dreading what horrors they remembered beneath the streets, all wondering if something was waiting for them, all knowing that there was some truth to the dreams that still haunted Beverly every night. Their fear was here feeding them all along, pulling them back here with Bev’s horrific visions and curiosity of what was left behind. Eddie’s eyes froze at a spot at the edge of It’s nest, where fresh, broken bits of shells were scattered along the rock.

They were already waking up.


	16. There is hope, even when your brain lies to you that there isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. The nest, folks. I don't really know what to say besides the usual thank yous for being so sweet with your feedback. I'm sorry I literally have no writing schedule, but it is what it is and I'm just glad you all are loving it and I'm just throwing it out as fast as I can!
> 
> This chapter is pretty heavy, so I have trigger warnings, it's nothing more than you might've seen in the movies or books but there may be spoilers, so do be warned!
> 
> TW: homophobic language, violence (strangulation/hanging, stabbing, blood and vomit)

_“Good golly, miss Molly, you making me ting-a-ling-a-ling,” Richie howled from the couch._

_“Those aren’t the lyrics,” Stan said as he looked back over his shoulder from the armchair and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Eddie. Stop provoking him.”_

_“Hey, it’s hot in here,” Eddie shrugged, lightly tugging the hem of his runners shorts, which he knew were too short and drove Richie crazy._

_The building owners were overcompensating for the chill outside and the apartment was incredibly toasty; it seemed to be stuck like this, so they were kind enough to cap their electric bill and not overcharge them. Eddie shuffled over to the couch where Richie was laying. Richie spread his legs so Eddie could tuck himself there and lean back against Richie’s chest to watch TV while the snowstorm raged outside. New Year’s had just passed and Stanley was already reading one of his textbooks for an upcoming class for the new semester._

_“Anything interesting?” Eddie asked Stanley as Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist._

_“Very interesting, actually,” said Stan. “There are studies in here that talk about what kinds of things can be passed down through genetics. Like, there’s a study they did with Jews – ”_

_“Careful, Stanley,” Richie teased. “Are we about to get playfully anti-Semitic?”_

_“No, dipshit. It’s about Holocaust survivors. Supposedly, they looked at descendents of Jews alive during the Holocaust, and they found that the ones that were descendent of Jews that suffered through torture or concentration camps had more mental health problems and symptoms similar to PTSD than other Jewish people descendents raised in other parts of the world.”_

_“Well, that makes sense,” said Eddie, frowning. “That’s a pretty fucked up thing to go through. Imagine trying to raise a family after going through that?”_

_“But that’s not all,” said Stan. “They also did this study on rats, where they electrocuted half their rats every time they pumped a smell into their cage. Then they bred the all the rats and they put all their offspring in a cage and pumped the smell again. The ones whose parents they didn’t electrocute were fine, but the other rats were actually_ scared _of the smell. Nothing even happened to them, but they were instinctually terrified of it and had a bunch of anxiety every time they smelled it.”_

_“That sounds… really cruel,” Eddie muttered._

_Stanley nodded. “I agree, but… holy shit, Richie, keep your hands out of Eddie’s pants!”_

_“Sorry,” Richie chuckled, snaking his hand out of the bottom of Eddie’s shorts. “I can’t help myself.”_

_“Six months,” Stan groaned. “We’ve lived here for six months and you still can’t control yourselves.”_

_“Hey, you’re the one that made a ruckus out here Saturday night with your date. Eddie scrubbed the couch for hours.”_

_“Only because you two were already banging it out right next to my bedroom,” Stan argued, but a smirk was playing o his lips. “And, by the way, I could hear everything you were doing. How does Eddie topping work? Is it anything like a Chihuahua humping a Great Dane?”_

_“Wow, fuck you Stan,” said Eddie, tossing a pillow at him. Richie squeezed him tighter and kissed his neck._

_“He’s just jealous, Eds. He’s scared of what a power couple we are.”_

_“As if,” Stan said, rolling his eyes._

_Eddie shook his head while the two of them continued to bicker, trying to focus on the TV instead. He couldn’t help but think about the rats, feeling incredible bad for them. He also couldn’t help but wonder, though, what else something could possibly pass down to their offspring._

Everything became chaotic at once. Eddie’s first instinct was to reach out to Richie, who had fallen back onto the ground, screaming and smacking himself all over.

“ _Get them off!”_ Richie shouted, whacking himself with the iron fence post and shoving off some invisible things that he seemed to think were crawling on him “Get these fucking things off of me!”

“Rich!” Eddie screamed, but was cut off by some piercing wail that echoed throughout the chamber. Eddie’s knees buckled under him as he clamped his hand over his left ear, the other unprotected by the screech. The others were all shouting around him and he felt a rush of wind beside him, looking up to see both Ben and Bev, who had just been there moments before, gone.

 _The eggs! Destroy the eggs!_ Eddie had no weapon, but as soon as the screeching stopped, he stood up and ran back towards the nest. Just as he went to stomp on the nearest egg, it cracked open down the middle and a large zombified hand reached out of it as if reaching out from a trick door beneath the egg hiding a whole body under it. Eddie yelped as it grabbed his ankle and he fell back onto his ass, kicking the hand with his other foot and shouting. Each time his foot collided with the arm it made a wet crunch, pealing skin off with every kick and blistering the bone beneath.

 _The leper,_ Eddie thought. They fucking remember the leper. Eddie’s fears, all of their fears, imprinted in their DNA. They knew exactly what to do, and Eddie did not need to wonder about what It’s children would look like in their pure physical form, because they were ready to become something else entirely just to fuck with them. Now didn’t seem like the time to figure out how quickly evil space babies could mature, but if a newborn fowl could run and a freshly hatched snake could bite, surely these things had an instinct to do whatever it was Pennywise was going to do to them, too. There was no way Eddie was probably going to be able to just stomp these things to death. He struggled free from the leper’s hands grip before the rest of it could emerge from the small space of the egg, turning on his heal and running in the direction Richie had been.

The chambers were still echoing with screams, but Eddie was hyper focused on finding Richie. He saw a tunnel ahead and instinctually ran towards it, that familiar feeling in his gut telling him where he should go. Behind him, he could hear more eggs hatching and he pushed his legs as fast as they could go and refused to look back.

“Richie!” Eddie shouted through the cave as he ran down its tunnel. “Richie, I’m here!”

“Eddie-bear!”

Eddie froze in front of the figure before him; Sonia Kaspbrak, standing large and menacingly in front of him, a shotgun in her hands. If Eddie was quite honest with himself, he had been starting to forget what she looked liked. In the recesses of his brain, he still felt guilt-stricken with the plastered image of her agonizing over his safety and illness, which was sick within itself because she was an evil woman that tried to tear him apart into this basis pitiful child if he showed any signs of what she deemed to be imperfect. She had tried to send him away, break him down, and imprison him with her until one of them died.

But the offspring failed at projecting anything that could cause Eddie to falter. Because in front of him was no less than a monster and that was exactly what Sonia was. It wasn’t showing Eddie a version of his mother he was afraid of seeing; it was simply showing what she had always been and what Eddie hated. Eddie felt no guilt at all staring at this creature which deserved to disappear as much as Sonia did herself, rotting away in her prison cell miles away.

“You abandoned me, Eddie!” she screamed at him. “I should’ve known you’d leave me like your filthy queer father! I should’ve finished the job since you’re too weak to do it yourself – ”

“Fuck you, Sonia!” Eddie screamed, barreling into her and gliding straight through as if she was made of fog, falling face first onto the ground.

“You really think this is going to last?”

Eddie looked back where the Not-Sonia stood and instead saw Richie, looking so much harsher and wicked than the real Richie ever could, laughing down at Eddie coldly.

“I can literally be with anyone,” Not-Richie continued to jeer. “Why the fuck would I stay with a shrimpy little faggot? You’ve seen all the hot pussy I can get every time we go out? Why would I make my life harder for myself when I can date a woman like a normal fucking man?”

Despite himself, Eddie’s eyes stung, hearing Richie’s voice say those words which he had told himself over and over again at night. But this isn’t his Richie. His Richie showed him love Eddie could never have imagined. His Richie was kind and loving and cared for Eddie in a way that Eddie never fully accepted he deserved. Except right now, if he could fight off these stupid fucking things, he deserved to be with his Richie, and he was damn sure of it.

“You know what, fuck you too!” Eddie huffed kicking at the Not-Richie, thinking it would disappear like the vision of his mother did, but it grabbed his foot harshly.

“Oh, I’ll fuck you all right,” the thing taunted, dragging Eddie closer. “I’ll fuck you straight into the dirt.”

Eddie’s brain immediately thought of Henry pinning him down at the beach; he swung his other leg up to kick the Not-Richie in the chin, forcing it to let go of Eddie so he could twist around and run away and find his real Richie. His Richie, who loved him and was waiting for Eddie… as long as he didn’t have a fucking heart attack first trying to get through this cave. They were only babies, literally new born infants of the creature that It was, but there were so much more of them.

And Eddie felt so much weaker than he did back then…

But he wasn’t. Because Richie told him so, and he needed to listen to his own advice that he gave Richie before. He was strong; he could get through this.

Every muscle in his chest was straining from running and screaming in the cold, his pajama pants hardening as the water drenched into the fabric started to freeze. Eddie was shivering so violently, but he pushed those thoughts away and focused his mind on finding Richie. He could hear Richie’s shouting all around him, bouncing off of all the walls. Eddie kept running and running and suddenly saw a door at the end of the tunnel. It was probably some sort of trick, but he didn’t care, because he probably had to open this door to get to Richie, and that’s what he needed to do right now.

For a very brief moment, Eddie swore the door looked familiar, but he didn’t stop to dwell on it as he swung it open. Once peering inside, though, he froze and pondered what exactly he was looking into and realized it was a closet.

“What the hell…”

Was it some sort of jab at Eddie’s sexuality? Not fully out of the closet? Well, fuck you, evil space babies. Eddie pushed some clothes aside and saw that the tunnel continued on, and he ran straight through until he felt like his neck almost snapped.

Eddie gasped, feeling something pulling on his neck, squeezing is windpipe. He couldn’t run anymore, being held in place and slowly dragged back by the thing twisting around and pulling him by his throat. He tried to dig his heals into the dirt to leverage, but did nothing but lose a shoe in the process. His feet started lifting off of the ground, and Eddie realized it was pulling him up. He reached up to grab at it and realized with a visceral terror that it was a noose around his neck, trying to hang him in his closet; no wonder the door frame looked so familiar, you stupid idiot.

Eddie struggled against the rope as it seemed to tighten against his neck, reaching up and trying to pry the knot loose with all his might. He couldn’t scream or shout as his airway was constricting. He had worked so hard to escape this moment. He had been doing so well by taking his medicine and talking to his doctors and to Richie, all for what? Just to die just as he intended last year, when he was at his lowest? Was he always doomed to die alone in the cold, away from Richie and everyone he loved with a noose around his neck?

No way. _Fuck that_.

With all the strength he could muster, Eddie curled up, kicking his legs up towards the ceiling, heaving his body all the way up so his feet would catch on the top so he could leverage himself. His feet caught the top of the clothes rack and Eddie was able to reach the rack with his hand and pull himself up, yanking on the rope as hard as he could and tugging it free. He braced himself for the fall as his body slammed down onto the cold, hard ground. Once he pulled the noose loose, he could finally breath, his eyes widening as the oxygen rushed back to his brain. The closet space had disappeared.

“Holy shit,” Eddie gasped, looking down into the tunnel, where _something_ was scurrying down into the darkness, something that looked like a bloated spider. “I beat you, you stupid fuck!”

“Eddie?”

Eddie perked up towards the sound. “Bill?” he shouted. It sure sounded like Bill, and he sounded out of breath, and Eddie scampered up and ran down further towards his voice, looking around desperately.

“Eds! I’m here!”

Eddie made a left somewhere and came to find Bill, soaked from head to toe on the ground, despite everything around him being solid and dry.

“Bill?” Eddie asked cautiously, leaning down to help the hopefully real Bill up. Bill grabbed Eddie’s arm and pulled himself up to his feet with him, a triumphant look on his face.

“I fucking shot it,” Bill wheezed, still catching his breath. “I shot it in its stupid fucking face.”

“You killed one of them?”

“I think so,” Bill sputtered, looking around at a squished, horrible thing that was _squelching_ on the ground and twitching. “I was… I was in my old basement. I – I saw Georgie. But I knew it wasn’t Georgie, with all the shit it was saying. I probably would’ve believed every stupid fucking word of it if it weren’t for you tonight,” he added, smiling down at Eddie. It was hard to believe they had just spoken to Georgie this very night before this madness started. What a merry fucking Christmas this was.

“That’s fucking fantastic, Bill. Holy shit.”

“We just gotta fight back. We can do this. We can get them all before they grow strong. And you know what? I’m not fucking afraid anymore.”

Eddie could feel Bill’s energy surging through him and Eddie straightened up. They could do this. They had each other. There was no way he was going to let his past haunt him to death.

Eddie and Bill ran through the tunnels, unsure who they were hearing shouting. Half a dozen voices were echoing all around them while they made their way through what was starting to feel like a maze. It made Eddie feel disoriented, as he never got lost, but he supposed his friends were scattered so far apart his body had no idea where to go first. He wanted to find Richie, but the others kept popping into his mind as well, and it felt like his body was trying to tug itself in a dozen different directions until they stumbled upon two bodies on the ground. Immediately panicking, Eddie picked up the pace until he realized that it was Ben and Beverly making out on the ground.

“Hey!” Bill shouted. “Is this really the moment for this?!”

Ben pulled off of Beverly and Eddie immediately reeled back. How they could even kiss each other right now, he didn’t know, as Beverly was drenched in blood from head to toe, and Ben was covered and caked in something dark.

“Sorry,” Bev panted, getting up with Ben. “Just kind of went through some shit.”

“Not literally, I hope?” Eddie cringed, staring at Ben.

“Dirt,” said Ben, gesturing to the soil he was caked in.

“Let’s save the stories for later, shall we?” said Bill. “We gotta find the others.”

No one could argue and they all scattered up a tunnel that Eddie was sure would bring them back to the Splash. He felt like he was getting closer to Richie, but his stomach was twisting again with a terrible dread that sent nervous energy through him. The end of this tunnel grew closer and closer as they neared the center of the giant chamber again.

“You know what, fuck face? You’re a sloppy fucking bitch!”

“Eddie, that’s your man,” said Bev almost encouragingly. As in, at least he’s still alive, let’s go get him.

It was immensely darker there in the chamber, a giant cloud of smoke twisting around like a hurricane above the Splash. There was something off about it, like whatever was doing it was trying to shape-shift into something it could not comprehend, or perhaps just didn’t know what to do. Someone was crying, and sure enough it was probably Penelope, the only other female with them, somewhere in the chamber. Eddie scanned through the chamber desperately and his heart leaped in his chest when he saw Richie, stabbing away at some smoke.

“I don’t think they’re strong enough,” said Beverly. “Ben and I weren’t able to see each other’s illusions. They can’t manifest that strong yet.”

So it wasn’t just smoke Richie was seeing, but something that was terrifying him. Eddie immediately ran towards him, determined that nothing would stand in his way to reach him, entrusting the others to deal with whatever there was haunting the rest of the cavern. With every pounding step closer Eddie realized Richie was sobbing and it pushed him to go faster, every fiber of his being desperate to destroy whatever it was that was causing Richie this anguish.

“Shut the fuck up!” Richie was crying. “You lying sack of shit! Eddie wouldn’t – he wouldn’t – ”

“Richie!” Eddie shouted, hoping he drowned out whatever the evil thing was saying. He was ready to spring atop of Richie and shield him from whatever was antagonizing him. “I’m here! I’m right – ”

“ _Fuck you!_ ”

The blood splatter on Richie’s face was the first thing Eddie was able to register after it happened. His arm was still outstretched for a moment towards his lover, his body frozen in place above where Richie was lying with his back to the ground, before his hand pulled back to clutch at the center of his torso where the fence post was lodged right through him. Richie opened his eyes, blinking behind his blood-stained glasses up at Eddie hovering over him, his hands still gripping the rod. They both looked down simultaneously at where it was piercing into Eddie before gazing back at each other in horror.

“Richie…” Eddie whined pathetically, his first instinct desperate to tell Richie that he was OK.

“Eds,” croaked Richie, his voice broken and eyes wide in shock. He had thought it was an illusion, some taunting form of Eddie coming after him. “Nononono, Eddie!”

Eddie thought he was starting to vomit when something hot came out of his throat, pouring down his chin, until he tasted the familiar metallic blood on his tongue. His eyes were watering so badly that he couldn’t see as Richie and someone else guided him off of Richie and sat him down against something solid.

“Eddie, Christ, Eddie,” Richie cried, his hands frantically hovering over Eddie after laying him down, clearly afraid to do more damage. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I thought – shit – ”

The back of Eddie’s throat was hot with blood; afraid to open his mouth again, he reached up and grabbed at Richie’s hand, squeezing him tight to let him know he wasn’t mad or blaming in anyway, but there was no consoling Richie in this state.

“We have to pull it out,” Stan cried, going to grab the post, but Richie smacked his hands away.

“Are you fucking crazy? We can hurt him more!”

But Eddie shook his head vigorously, because knew Stan was right. “I can’t – I can’t get out of the cavern.” His voice was strained and more blood spilled out of his mouth and he could taste vomit there too, likely triggered by the violent piercing in his stomach, the bile slowly pouring out with blood.

“He’s right, Richie,” Stan pleaded. “We can’t get him through that gap with this thing. I’ll pull it out and you press down to keep the wound from bleeding, OK?”

Screams from behind Eddie drowned out whatever Richie said then, his face in complete agony looking down at Eddie, sobbing hysterically. Chaos stirred behind him where the others were, but there was no chance of Eddie making out of this alive if they waited for it to be over.

“Richie,” Eddie said firmly, his abdomen stinging hot and sharp with each syllable. “It’s OK. Whatever that thing said to you, it wasn’t true. This wasn’t your fault. I just kicked what looked like you in the face in the tunnel back there. I get it.”

“I’ve seen this before,” Richie cried quietly, a hand cupping Eddie’s cheek. “In Neibolt – I saw him just like this…”

Eddie remembered: Richie had told him years ago that when they were children first entering the old Neibolt house for the first time, he had seen It turn into Eddie, spilling black tar and blood from It’s mouth.

“Rich, you can do this,” Eddie whispered, voice going quieter each time he spoke. “You can get me out. I trust you.”

“Eddie, I hurt you,” Richie sobbed so brokenly, it wretched Eddie’s heart more painfully than the stabbing did. Deep down Eddie knew Richie would not be calmed until Eddie was out of here safe and sound, so he looked over at Stanley, whose own face was pained with anguish looking down at Eddie, giving him a solid nod. Stan looked up behind Eddie and took a deep breath, looking over at Richie earnestly.

“Rich, they’re destroying the eggs – we have to get Eddie out. Hold him tight. On my count – ”

There was no point in bracing himself for the pain, knowing it was going to hurt twice as bad as going in. Eddie could feel Stan’s hesitation when he pulled, yelping at the tearing and sharp pain twisting under his skin. Immediately, Richie had his winter jacket pressed firmly down on the wound.

“How are we going to carry him out?” Richie sobbed at Stan.

 _I can walk_ , Eddie said. Or thought? He tried to speak, but his body felt too tired to move, much less do anything else. He blinked up at Richie, trying to capture his face and extinguish the sight of the cave around them. Even when crying, he managed to look beautiful. How does he manage that?

Someone’s arm was reaching around Eddie’s back, Richie’s weight still pressing down into his abdomen while he helped scoop Eddie into his arms, Stan on the other side helping hold Eddie up so he could tie Richie’s jacket around his waist like a tourniquet. _You can’t amputate a waist_ , Eddie thought. It kind of made him chuckle and the worry on his friend’s faces deepened.

“I gotcha, Eds. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Richie’s arms were bare now with his jacket pressed around Eddie, and Eddie frowned up at him. “Richie,” he managed quietly. “You’re cold.”

“I’m fine,” he said firmly, tears still streaking down his cheek as they carried him.

“Take mine,” Eddie mumbled. “I’m not cold anymore.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t. There was a strange calmness and warmth spreading beneath his skin, making his brain feel fuzzy and sleepy. The pain wasn’t even so bad right now, only stinging slightly as Stan reached forward from the other side of the gap to pull Eddie through, Richie following right after to help pick him back up. There was only a brief moment when Eddie felt what was probably panic until Richie had scooped him up again and he was back in his arms, pressing his face into Richie’s chest.

“Richie,” he whispered, almost sure that Richie wasn’t going to hear him.

“What?” Richie asked, looking down at Eddie with concern in his eyes. “What is it, love?”

Eddie looked up at him through his lashes, eyelids heavy. “I fucked your mom.”

Richie gapped at him for a moment, shaking his head. “I’m telling Mags you said that, you filthy animal.” His voice was still shaky.

Eddie chuckled but it came out as a wheezing gasp as he coughed up more blood and Richie squeezed him tighter into his chest, in his arms where Eddie always felt so small and safe. He could die here, Eddie thought. He had escaped the grasps of depth in the cave, in his closet, in his mother’s clutches. Dying in the arms of his lover wasn’t a bad way to go. It always felt like home here. Maybe this was where he was meant to die all along, drifting into sweet daziness and peace.

But that wouldn’t do. Because Richie would never live with himself. This was not Eddie’s time and he needed Richie to know that. Richie had to know that he was going to be all right. When Stan helped Richie balance Eddie on his back to crawl back up the tunnel, both of their grips firmly on him to keep him from slipping from their grasp, he rested his head on Richie’s shoulder and buried his face in his neck.

“We’re going home, Rich. I’ll see you there, I promise.”

Richie reached down and squeezed his thigh. “Damn right you will.”

Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut as his mind drifted into darkness with that final thought; damn right he would.


	17. We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas... return from the chaos.  
> A familiar face returns from Part 1.  
> Things get better.
> 
> Thank you all again for your support! It's almost over <3
> 
> TW?: some mention of Eddie's injuries from the previous chapter, brief sexual content (yeayeayea)

Iodoform; Eddie could recognize that smell from a mile away. It was that distinct disinfectant odor that accompanied the many visits he had to the hospital as a child and teen. The scent stirred a strange mixture of panic and ease, if that were possible. Memories of the hospital could remind Eddie of his mother, but they also brought a comfort that something wrong with him was going to be fixed, whether it was a broken arm, an amputated arm, or… or…

The second Eddie’s eyes shot open a sharp, blistering pain shot through his skull as the blinding hospital lights penetrated them. He never understood why they needed to be so harsh. He blinked through the pain as his sight adjusted, taking in his surroundings and the aching that began to register throughout the rest of his body.

For starters, he was alive; that was always a plus. Someone else was beside him, but this person, while seemingly awake, was _not_ alive.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Frank,” Eddie whispered hoarsely. His father chuckled silently.

“Frank now, huh? Too big to call your old man ‘dad?’”

“Where have you been?” Eddie almost demanded.

“It’s been hard to connect to you,” Frank said sadly. “Whenever it wasn’t, it didn’t feel right to make you rely on talking to a dead guy when so many people were trying to keep you alive.”

Eddie sighed. “I suppose that’s fair.” He looked down, lifting his blankets to look at his bandaged torso. “What’s the damage now?”

“Well, you went into hypovolemic shock, but they were able to get you some blood after some… resistance from certain staff.”

“Resistance to what?” Eddie asked, frowning.

Frank pursed his lips. “There was a lot of blood…”

“It’s a hospital,” Eddie huffed. “What are they afraid – oh.” He forgot for a moment that he was back in Derry.

“Yeah… well, Richie went absolutely apeshit on them, but after some decent nurses that weren’t homophobic and afraid of catching your imaginary AIDS finally tended to you, they got you into surgery. The damage missed some nerves, but your intestines were a bit of a mess,” he added with a grimace.

“Great,” Eddie sighed. “I’m going to end up looking like Frankenstein’s fucking monster by the time I’m your age. Which is what, exactly?”

“32. Don’t worry, you’ll keep getting patched up and live to see 100 as long as Richie is there. He seems ready to punch a hole in the moon for you, that kid.”

Eddie followed Frank’s gaze and felt his heart flutter fondly as his eyes landed on the near-six-and-a-half foot tall man crammed and curled up into a small recliner beside Eddie’s bed. It was so endearing seeing him sleep, even so uncomfortably like this at the expense of watching over Eddie. Thankfully, it appeared someone had brought Richie fresh clothes, although he did look in need of a shower and a shave. Eddie felt his own scruff on his face and felt a desire to bath himself. He shifted uncomfortably, happy with the knowledge that they had to have washed him for surgery, and was stricken with visceral embarrassment as he did so.

“Am I – am I wearing a _diaper_?” he whispered frantically at his dad.

“Well, you… you did suffer trauma to your stomach and intestines, so…”

“Frank, I swear to god, if I shit myself…”

To his surprise, Frank let out a hearty laugh. “I don’t think anything happened when Richie carried you out, don’t worry.”

Regardless, Eddie allowed himself to forget the other well more important traumas he had endured and felt _mortified_ at the idea and tried his best to bury that thought somewhere deep in his brain where he could never stumble upon it again.

“What happened in the cavern? Everyone made it out right? Did they…” Eddie dropped his voice down to barely a whisper. “Did they destroy all the eggs?”

Frank, who had no need to lower his voice, spoke clearly back to him. “Everyone made it out alive. I think your friend Mike’s arm is broken, but that happened before you were all down there. Richie’s sister is… well, she’s a bit taken aback by what she’s seen down there.”

“Can’t blame her for that,” Eddie muttered, looking back over at Richie. Part of him wanted to let Richie get the rest he deserved, but he also wanted to assure him that Eddie was all right. He wanted to hear about the others and get more confirmation of their whereabouts. And, probably most importantly, where they had told the hospital they had been.

“I think it’s most important you talk to Richie,” Frank said. “He really needs you right now.”

Eddie looked back over at his dad. “I’ll see you again, though, right?”

Frank smiled warmly at him. “You sure can, buddy. Just make sure it’s for my sake and not yours. You got a life you have to live.”

Eddie heard a low grumble, turning to see Richie’s eyebrows knitted together before he started stirring slowly in his chair. The seat was so small that Eddie expected to see him to unfold out like an accordion when his limbs started stretching out. He could feel the absence of his father come over him and watched Richie slowly blink his eyes open, unfocused and dazed for a few brief seconds before they registered Eddie’s staring right back at them. Richie spazzed out and fell gracelessly from his chair trying to get up too quickly and stumbled onto the floor.

“Hey, easy Rich!” Eddie pleaded while watching Richie clumsily stagger back up to his feet and clamber to his bedside.

“Hey,” Richie said almost too calmly, completely contrary to his apprehensive expression. His hands immediately found Eddie’s face. “What took you so long? You can’t keep me waiting like that, little love.”

“Can you forgive me?” Eddie asked, leaning his head into Richie’s touch. Eddie searched Richie’s eyes and they looked so frantically desperate, like he was waiting for Eddie to disappear any moment.

“I guess just this once,” Richie replied softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He still looked so somber and broken. “Eds, I almost killed you…”

“Don’t,” Eddie spoke firmly. “Don’t do that to yourself. It was an accident, Rich. I should have known better than to come barreling at you when you were stabbing around with a giant poker. You pulled me out of the cavern and saved my life.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s equivalent to performing CPR after drowning you,” Richie huffed humorlessly.

“OK, yeah, maybe if you crashed a boat trying to avoid running over a manatee and I fell off and I drowned accidentally. You didn’t run into me with the fence post, Richie. I ran into you while you were stabbing at something else.”

Richie sighed deeply through his nose, gently guiding a hand down over where Eddie’s bandages were, looking as if he was hoping to stitch Eddie back together with the powers of thought alone. Eddie was tempted to ask what Richie had seen down there, but he didn’t want to pry. He had hoped, given what they had been through together at this point that Richie would bring it up on his own; thankfully, he was right.

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to hate me?”

“I could never hate you, Richie,” Eddie whispered back.

“Part of me… part of me was always afraid of you… not being sick,” Richie spoke quietly. “I know that doesn’t make any sense, but like, there was always some part of me that was afraid that you were only with me to get away from your mom and then… well, shit happened with her, and then I thought you may have just felt like you needed someone to take care of you. And not because you did need it, but because you _thought_ you did and didn’t realize you could do any better than some giant emotionally stunted dweeb. And then shit _really_ happened,” he added, gesturing to the side where Eddie’s right arm had been. “And I thought… maybe not really, but maybe I was afraid you just felt like you needed me because of that. I was so scared your mom screwed you up into thinking you always needed someone. And then when you were so stubborn about _not_ needing help or not being sick a few months ago, that’s when I felt like you were pushing me away, so I just… I don’t know; I just reaffirmed it in my mind that once you’d realize you didn’t need me you wouldn’t want me either.” Richie looked up at Eddie, his face framed with guilt and eyes teary.

“Richie, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Thanks,” Richie deadpanned.

“You had almost five years to talk to me about this, Rich. For all the times you never shut the fuck up, you’re telling me you never once thought to maybe reach out and seek some reassurance?”

“I know,” Richie said, looking away. “I’m a fucking shithead. I’m sorry.”

Eddie sat up carefully so as to not bend his torso, reaching his hand out to turn Richie’s face back to look at him.

“I know I’m not one to talk about hiding things. But Richie, I’ve loved you forever. You’ve gotta know that. I fell in love with you because you knew I was strong enough not to need anyone and still looked out for me and you always made me laugh, even if I had to pretend you weren’t funny when I was still afraid of my feelings for you. I’m with you because you’re my best friend and I want to spend every day with you. It’s why I proposed to you. The sex stuff is just a bonus,” he added, nudging Richie with his knee (and wincing as it sent a sharp pain into his abdomen).

“I thought you said it wasn’t a real proposal because we couldn’t get married,” Richie teased, raising his eyebrow, despite his eyes tearing up more.

“One day, maybe,” Eddie sighed hopefully, grabbing Richie’s hand. Richie leaned forward and pressed his forehead into Eddie’s. He still kind of smelled like the sewer with a poor attempt at masking it with cologne. But Eddie didn’t dare push him away, instead reaching up to pull him down a little further, hoping Richie at the very least washed his face, and kissed him. Eddie silently thanked Wentworth for likely bringing Richie a toothbrush at some point, pressing his lips firmly into Richie’s for what felt like the first time in days. When Richie pulled away he groaned in protest, but remembered he was also in the hospital and there was a lot of information that he was missing.

“What happened with everyone else?”

“They’re fine,” Richie assured him. “Penelope is as emotionally unstable as us now, for sure. She’s a tough cookie, though; she’ll be all right. Mike was discharged a few hours ago with a cast. If his arm wasn’t broken after the library, it was definitely broken after the house fell apart.”

“The house?”

Richie nodded solemnly. “Neibolt; it crumbled into dust. The rest of them barely made it out. After Ben crushed the last egg, everything started quaking immediately and everything came down.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed. “Do you think that’s it then?”

The light Eddie missed in Richie’s face returned, like someone flipped a switch in his head, and he gently reached over to take Eddie’s hand, flipping it over and showing their palms side by side. The scars that had once lay there, the promises to return to Derry and destroy anything left of It, had completely disappeared. They had just saved themselves 17 more years of torment and worry agonizing over their uncertainty. Relief washed over Eddie like warm sunlight. He looked back up to meet Richie’s gaze and could see the joy reflecting back at him.

“I can’t believe it…” Eddie whispered.

“I think it’s safe to say whatever old Bozo had left for us is gone for good.”

“It feels like I’m breathing for the first time,” Eddie admitted, truly feeling the elation rise in his chest.

“I should probably fill you in on the story before someone checks in on you,” said Richie, craning around to look through the little window on the unit door in case someone was about to burst in. “Bill brought the… the fence post down to the quarry. So if anyone asks, we were all down there when Henry and an unknown assailant came by. The mystery dude broke Mike’s arm while Henry attacked you. He stabbed you with the post, you stabbed him with the knife, and the other lunatic went after me and struck Henry in the head. I mean, given Henry’s past and that he was _actually_ trying to kill you, it made sense to run with that.”

Eddie blinked a few times and tried to wrap his head around all of that. “Did they believe that?”

Richie shrugged. “It seems so. Your blood was already at the quarry. We also got pretty lucky; someone stole my dad’s car.”

“How is that lucky?” Eddie inquired.

“The axe was in it. And whoever that dude was, he was some loner drunk and crashed it and killed himself.” He shrugged again. “I’m just going to assume he was some kind of fucked up guardian angel and not think about it too hard. He apparently had a record for being a sex offender, so I’m not too upset over it. But to not rouse suspicion, let’s just say he had stabbed you earlier when he stole the car to explain your blood being in the back seat, then we fixed you up by the quarry to explain the stitches, then he picked up Henry and came back for us under Henry’s orders. It’s fucked up, but they seemed to buy it.”

“Wentworth is going to be pissed about the car.”

“Nah,” Richie waved it off. “He’s just happy you’re all right. They both are. Mom was frantic in here a few hours ago. Dad had to take her home or she wouldn’t stop bugging the nurses.”

Eddie felt warmth spread through his chest thinking about Richie’s parents. There was nothing more he wanted to do than go back and give them both big hugs right now.

“I suppose this is the story I’m going to be telling my psychiatrist when I get home,” Eddie sighed. “I’m sure a bipolar little queer ranting about a space clown’s demon eggs is going to warrant a trip back to Bellevue.”

Richie leaned forward, careful to keep his weight off of Eddie’s stomach, taking his glasses off to nuzzle his face into Eddie’s neck and rest on his chest. Eddie hugged him back and dug his fingers deep into his curls and grimaced.

“Richie, you need to shower.”

Richie’s hot breath tickled his neck as Richie sighed against him. “I know, just… give me a minute to have you to myself before the nurses start bugging you. Please?”

Eddie allowed himself to get more comfortable, nuzzling his neck with Richie’s and slowly stroking Richie’s back. “I’ll give you a lifetime, Rich.”

Wentworth was surprisingly difficult to pull off of Eddie and Richie when they parted for the airport. They had expected it from Maggie, blubbering the entire morning of, checking Eddie’s bandages, over packing meals for their barely over an hour flight back to New York, giving them both new socks to take home. When it came time for them to leave, though, Wentworth became teary and clingy, and Eddie couldn’t help but weep silently while saying goodbye with his head pressed against Wentworth’s chest, relishing in the fatherly embrace.

“Hey Ma, remember when you were worried about us moving to New York and getting mugged every day?” Richie teased as Maggie hugged him a fifth time outside.

“No more Christmas’s in Derry,” Maggie sniffled. “We need to sell this damn house and get the hell out of here before poor Eddie ends up getting flayed.”

None of them could agree more.

Stan was practically vibrating in his seat the entire flight back home. He had not disclosed with Eddie or most of the others what he had been through down in the cavern, and when Eddie pestered Richie about it, Richie, in his promise to Stan to keep quiet, responded, “It was some crazy shit. Don’t bring it up,” and Eddie kept his mouth shut, really respecting their friendship. He and Bill similarly did not disclose their own experiences to anyone but each other (and Richie, but it was a given for Eddie to tell Richie everything). All Stan talked about on the plane was Patty and seeing Patty and how he couldn’t wait to talk to her, and if Eddie and Richie weren’t as hopelessly as crazy about each other they probably would’ve throttled him, but… it was understandable.

“You know she can stay over as much as she wants, right?” Richie told Stan on the plane. “Like, if she was able to get a refund on her dorm room, I’d flat out just tell you to let her move in with us at this point since you’re so batshit head-over-heals for her.”

Eddie waited expectedly for Stan’s snarky response and was utterly surprised when Stan reached over Eddie’s lap towards one of Richie’s hands and gave it a small squeeze.

“Thanks, Richie. That means a lot.”

“Anytime, Mr. Urine,” Richie replied as Stan pulled his hand back, briefly flipping him off before relaxing back into his seat with a small smile on his face.

“Hey, Rich?” Eddie whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Can you open the window?”

Richie pulled his face back in surprise but obliged, lifting the little cover to reveal the bright sky behind the glass. Something about it wasn’t so scary anymore. Eddie felt relaxed, snuggling close into Richie’s side, feeling his long arm wrap around him. He wondered how he was going to return to normalcy again after this break. They had done it before, somehow, years ago after that horrible summer. He managed to do it again last year when he got out of the hospital. None of them ever seemed to catch a break. But a strange calmness was starting to take hold of Eddie. Maybe it had something to do with destroying the offspring of an ancient multidimensional being… obviously. But even his meds were feeling like they were working better and sleep was finding him more kindly and, even though he had always felt it couldn’t grow any more, his appreciation and love for Richie and his friends had expanded to an entirely new measure beyond comprehension. It was the first time Eddie had dreamt pleasantly thousands of feet from the ground.

“Is this a sex thing? I feel like this is a sex thing?”

“Richie, we’re still on the subway, stop screaming” Eddie groaned, kicking Richie’s leg and placing Richie’s headphone back on his ear.

Some old woman was scowling unpleasantly over at Eddie, still in his nice work clothes, and the fashion disaster that was Richie Tozier in corduroy pants, a flamingo covered pink Hawaiian shirt over a t-shirt with a banana on it that read ‘Surprise! I suck dick!’ (a lovely gift from his new manager he hired after New Year’s), holding a giant rainbow umbrella and a bandana blindfolding his eyes. Now he was grinning like a fucking idiot and Eddie just shook his head. They were almost home, but Richie didn’t know that’s where they were going, and Eddie didn’t want the world’s only intelligible conductor to spill the beans, and the Spring showers were already hitting too hard outside to walk all the way home, so he had made Richie put on a CD.

To continue annoying the hell out of Richie, Eddie made him take the stairs and endured Richie’s bitching for the entirety of their walk up to the apartment. Stan had left the door unlocked as promised so they were able to just walk in. Eddie allowed Richie to stand awkwardly for a moment before instructing him to take his blindfold off. Richie reached up eagerly to pull it down and immediately burst out laughing when his eyes met their own living room.

“You little fucking fucker,” he said through giggles. “What was the point of this?”

“What?” Eddie asked innocently. “You don’t like my surprise?”

“Our apartment?” Richie asked, completely bewildered and still chuckling while adjusting his glasses.

“Yeah, _our_ apartment. As in, your and my apartment.” Eddie gestured around the quiet place. “All ours. No one else’s.”

Richie’s sprung his head back and forth like an old Hannah Barbara cartoon, his eyes going wide and looking around as if Stanley was going to jump out from a dark corner somewhere and surprise him. “Stan… Stan moved out?”

“Yeah, I – I hope that’s OK,” Eddie said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “He and Patty moved all his stuff into a new place while we were at the movie. We’ve all been trying to keep it quiet to surprise you.”

“They got a place,” Richie said quietly, but it wasn’t a question as much as it was just a confirmation he was telling himself.

“Yeah, they were doomed from the start,” Eddie smirked up at him, a small sense of pride rising in his chest. “Patty’s parents were paying for the stupid dorm anyway, it’s not like she’s losing anything really. She and I got the idea after the, uh, intervention.”

“You mean the sextervention?” Richie chuckled, remembering the night Patty and Eddie sat the two of them down to make them stop tricking them into having weird loud sex contests when everyone was home.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Go take a look at our new office.”

Richie raised his eyebrows and walked down the hallway, passing their bedroom and stepping foot into Stan’s old room, empty of all of Stan’s belongings. Instead, two desks sat against the center of the back wall in front of the window against each other. One on side of the room sat Richie’s computer packed up in its original box, rolls of old movie posters he had collected, and his keyboard. The other side had Eddie’s yoga mat and weights, and all of the doodles he had made over the years as he learned to yield his art supplies properly with his left hand. Eddie’s laptop sat on his new desk with a small plastic card on top. The laptop was a gift from Richie he had given to him at the start of Spring break for an early graduation present, a nice sentiment for the lonely laptop bag Bill had purchased Eddie for his birthday months before and to congratulate Eddie on being promised a paid job and a new firm his boss was transferring them to. Richie smiled at it fondly, picking up the small little card on top, flipping it over.

“Lose your ID?”

“Did I?” Eddie asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, it – ” Richie’s face screwed up staring at Eddie’s license. Eddie tried to play it cool, but his cheeks stretched involuntarily into a wide smile up at Richie. “Eds, is… is this real?”

Eddie nodded, feeling equal parts excited and nervous. Richie continued to stare at it.

“When did you do this?” he whispered quietly.

“Officially? I’ve had it for like 3 weeks. It’s been really hard trying to hide all my mail and shit from you.”

Eddie’s heart fluttered fondly as Richie’s hand covered some sort of small sob behind his lips, his eyes watering as he looked down at Eddie. “Eddie, I don’t – I don’t know what to say – ”

“That’s Mr. _Tozier_ to you, now,” Eddie teased, cheeks burning. “I mean, it’s the most, like, legal thing I can do since we can’t – you know. Your parents already treat me like their son, and my dad had no attachment to the name so, like, I probably should have asked first, but I just hope it’s OK – ”

Eddie stopped short when Richie scooped him up into an enormous hug, squeezing him tightly around the middle. Eddie reciprocated immediately, wrapping his legs around Richie and holding his neck tightly, his hand gliding softly into Richie’s hair. It was a sweet moment or maybe five; Eddie wasn’t sure how long they stayed swaying like that, softly crying into each other until Richie slowly slide Eddie back down to the floor. Richie cupped Eddie’s face in both of his large hands; his face was so beautiful to look at, it hurt.

“I hope this satisfies as a fifth anniversary gift,” Eddie laughed awkwardly, gingerly taking his license back. It still gave him an elated feeling reading _Edward Tozier_. “I mean, it’s technically _mine_ , but the sentiment counts, right?”

“No way,” Richie teased, wiping the tears off of his cheek. “Fifth anniversary is the year for wood,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows and lifting Eddie up again high, both arms under his ass. “You still owe me.”

“Wait, wait,” Eddie laughed as Richie carried him back to their bedroom, holding onto Richie’s head to keep himself steady. “Those rules are for marriage, you giant turd.”

“Should’ve thought about that before you took my name, darling. Now that Stan’s gone, I can make you scream as loud as I want.”

Eddie was still giggling when Richie tossed him on their bed and undressed them gracelessly. It still tickled when Richie caressed his sides and kissed down his chest, kissing apologetically and gently against the cluster of scars that had formed on the center of Eddie’s torso, before going completely crazy once Eddie’s pants were off. Even when Richie went down on him, Eddie found himself chuckling because he wanted badly to argue that Richie _giving_ him a blowjob could still not be considered a _receiving_ a gift.

“I’ll take my wood however I damn well please,” Richie panted back before kissing Eddie’s taste into his own mouth roughly. Eddie was still hard underneath Richie’s weight and he flipped Eddie over onto his belly and growled into his ear, “You know what I really want? I want you coming so hard on my cock that you can’t see straight. I want you screaming into all this empty space.”

“Make me, Dick” Eddie teased back, wishing so badly he could see the grin on Richie’s face before he pulled Eddie’s hips back. Perhaps Stan had acted as a better tool of self-control than Eddie previously thought, as never in his life had he been that unabashedly vocal and animalistic. He could hear their downstairs neighbors thudding something against their ceiling beneath Richie and Eddie’s bed as Richie tightened his grip on Eddie’s hips and back of his hair. Every possible surface of the apartment had been desecrated by rowdy, loud sex acts within days. Neighbors started giving them both weird looks in the mail and laundry rooms. They’d end up receiving about ten complaints by the end of the week.

It was totally worth it.


	18. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, in case you haven't noticed - it is my last chapter. I think I have put my wonderful boys through the ringer and it is finally time for them to rest peacefully (and alive, because fuck you Stephen King).
> 
> A small credit to all the amazing authors that I have taken all the Chapters titles from. Google each one for some amazing books and writers, I promise. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has been on this journey. Your words have been so kind and have filled me with joy. I will likely be going back to lurking and reading other stories unless I otherwise go back and edit previous work with little touch ups. I really hope you've enjoyed this and wish you all the best. 
> 
> No TW for this happy little final chapter. Thank you all and enjoy<3

Eddie’s eyes shot open at the crack of thunder, lolling his head around the firm, cold glass. He relaxed immediately upon waking, smiling warmly and stretching a leg out along the bench of the bay window. It had become one of his favorite places to fall asleep lately, particularly on rainy nights like this. He had just fallen asleep watching the rain wash away the fresh snow from the streets. The thumb of his prosthetic still rested in the folds of a book he had fallen asleep reading and his arm was draped lazily over a small mass on his chest.

“Richie,” Eddie whispered into the darkness toward the rest of the quiet house. “Rich?”

He had not initially heard the gentle tapping of Richie’s laptop echoing in the home until Richie’s fingers had stopped, having had mostly been drowned out by the gentle rain beating down on the window beside Eddie. He let out a small sigh as he heard his husband shut his laptop and shuffle on over into the den, already in his pajamas, and watched fondly as Richie’s face stretched into a wide smile.

“That’s too precious,” Richie whispered quietly, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“I’m afraid to get up,” Eddie chuckled softly.

“Don’t yet.”

Eddie heard the familiar shutter of the camera as Richie took not one but five pictures. “How many can you possibly need?”

“Honestly? I’m running of space on my phone; I’ve got thousands and thousands already of just you two and the damn animals. Wanna hand her over so you can change for bed?”

“I suppose so,” Eddie sighed sadly, placing a small kiss atop their daughters head before Richie gently scooped her up into his arms. She was complete deadweight, barely stirring as Richie looked down at her fondly, allowing Eddie to finally sit up and get some feeling back in his legs. He heard a small mewling cry as he accidently threw the cat off, who had been sitting on one of his ankles.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said apologetically, but Egon just rubbed his leg affectionately and ran out to likely go sleep with the dog. He checked his phone, seeing that Richie had sent him one of the sweet pictures of their daughter sleeping on his chest and saw that he had texts from Patty and Stan, who had just left not too long ago.

Patty

**Omgggg Wyatt will NOT stop calling her his girlfriend and it’s driving Stan crazy**

**Am I part of the straight agenda if I encourage this??**

**Wyatt wants to adopt a bird with her**

**Stan is losing it**

**I’m living for this**

Eddie texted Stan and did not have to wait long for a response.

Eddie

**You know in your heart we’re going to be Wyatt’s father-in-laws, just accept it Uris**

**She already misses her boyfriend**

Stan

**Eddie, please**

**I can’t have family ties to Richie**

**It’s too late for you and Mike. You can still save my son.**

**We can’t share grandchildren.**

**If I spend every Christmas with Richie in my elderly years I’ll lose it.**

Eddie

**Oh stfu drama queen**

**Good luck convincing Wyatt RICHARD Uris that he can’t be part of this family.**

**He’s your bffl, moving to Georgia can’t help you escape Richie Tozier.**

Stan

**God help me.**

Eddie chuckled and shuffled into the kitchen. Richie had cleaned up most of the remnants of their small party. The cake had been put away, the dishes had been addressed, but balloons and streamers still hung up in the kitchen where Richie’s laptop was laying out on their island. Eddie quickly grabbed the precious document that sat next to it on the granite, smiling down at it. Their wonderful daughter, who they had been fostering for two years now, had officially become theirs. Christina Yoselin Tozier; the middle name she had kept, but she had picked out her new first name for herself, after one of Richie’s movie posters for an old horror film called _Christine_.

“Don’t – don’t name yourself after a _car_ ,” Eddie had insisted. “I mean, I know you said you want it, but you can always change it again when you’re older, I guess…”

“OK,” she said, but she was grinning ear to ear.

Eddie was a little nervous that Christina would want to change her name back to the one her birth parents gave anyway but she was stubborn and wouldn’t pick another one. Because Papa loves movies and Daddy loves cars, she had said, and she wanted a bit of them both. And that was cute enough, so Eddie didn’t bug her about it further.

They celebrated with their friends, many of them visiting New York City for the New Year celebrations. Stan and Patty were staying in a hotel suite with Bill and Audra so their kids could play and have sleepovers; they no doubt regretted this. Stan and Bill’s sons, Wyatt and George were both six like Christina and they matched each other’s chaotic energy and intellect, creating a monster duo for pranks. Stan’s daughter Esther and Bill’s twins, Darcy and Luke, were all around three and got along swimmingly and loudly, and Eddie knew the whole lot of them were now driving quiet Stan and Bill as insane as they and been at the party.

Wentworth and Maggie were staying nearby but were ready to head back to their home in Florida the next day. Mike and Penelope were staying at Bev and Ben’s new place uptown. It was bliss to have them all together, and they had all came over tonight to celebrate the newest addition to their large family with gifts and old photos and stories. Eddie had started to slowly help Christina undo the ribbon of her first present earlier that evening, when Richie pushed him aside.

“No, no, you gotta tear into it like crazy, like its Christmas 2.0!” and encouraged Christina to wildly rip open her gifts, sending scraps of paper everywhere. Richie didn’t know what he found more endearing: her ripping open the gifts with glee, her awe at the books and toys, or Eddie frantically trying to clean up after her, throwing the disposed wrapping into a garbage bag before their playful pit-bull Leia could tear into it all. Richie spent a large portion of the evening doing impersonations for the hysterical children.

“Oh! Do Peewee Herman!”

“Dad, am I doing these for you or the kids?” Richie laughed, but complied with Wentworth’s request. Wentworth had been encouraging Richie’s antics his entire life, and Richie finally had a fresh new audience to appreciate his talent.

They had spent the last few days doing as much as possible before Christina returned to school from the winter break. The day before last, they took a short drive up to Westchester to take her sledding. Richie barked with laughter when Eddie bundled her up into so many clothes she had to waddle out of her bedroom. He compromised with a layer or two so she could actually bend her knees to sit in the car and later get onto a sled. He almost forgot about colds and influenza as he felt the cold wind rushing on his face and adrenaline as they slid down a steep hill, holding Christina tightly in his lap. Richie followed behind them and purposefully crashed for Christina’s amusement, his face beet red from wind burn and laughter, and he and Eddie felt like they were kids again, throwing snowballs at each other and teaching Christina how to build a snowman before Richie unceremoniously crashed his sled again into the base, knocking it down.

It wasn’t surprising that after their long trip up north and the antics of the party, she was out like a light on Eddie’s chest within minutes of everyone leaving and Eddie had not been far behind her. He made his way upstairs to give Christina a kiss goodnight, and felt an amused smile tug his face when he entered her bedroom. Richie stood up and turned back to him, arms outstretched dramatically while Christina still clung to his neck, a sly smile playing on her lips while she did an awful job pretending to be sleeping.

“Christina…”

Apparently awake, the little girl let out a little giggle, and Eddie cocked his eyebrow at them. “What is she doing?”

“You’re gonna have to let go some time, honey,” Richie said, trying to shake her off.

“Nuh uh,” she said up at him, smirking playfully.

Richie sighed, resorting to tickling her sides and catching her as she immediately let go shrieking.

“I don’t wanna go to bed!” she pouted through small giggles still, sending over an utterly angelic look over at Eddie. “Can I stay with you and Papa _puh-leeeease?_ ”

“You have school tomorrow, honey,” Eddie said, despite Richie already carrying her back to their bedroom, defeated.

“It’s just one night,” Richie offered, shrugging, and Christina grinned triumphantly.

Eddie rolled his eyes, but knew that all Christina ever had to do with bat her lashes at Richie and he’d find a way to give her the damn sun. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest, because he had always been the exact same way with Eddie, and Eddie had not been above giving Richie doe-eyed pleading looks when he wanted something Richie could give. Richie had caved in when Eddie found their house in Greenwich years ago. He had caved in when Eddie wanted to have an adventurous honeymoon in Iceland, despite Richie heavily hinting he had wanted to just lay around on a beach being fed grapes and mojitos for 2 weeks.

Then they had met Christina on an anniversary trip to Costa Rica (in which Richie allowed Eddie to drag him Volcano hiking and zip-lining and surfing when he just wanted to get sunburned on the beach), a small Venezuelan girl whose parents had been killed while trekking north, and Richie could not resist the charming little thing making goofy voices with him and contacted her social worker immediately to figure out how to give her a home she deserved.

If it weren’t for Eddie, Richie would’ve played make-believe with her until late every night any time she asked. Eddie spent the last two years stopping a circus of animals from being taken in after Christina and Richie had found them and nursed them back to health before Eddie made them send them to a shelter. Somehow, Richie convinced Eddie to keep their cat, this stupid but lovable Gollum looking motherfucker whose eyes went in different directions and teeth stuck out funny, even after they admitted to finding him in the garbage of all places, because Christina just _loved_ him. Then came their three-legged pit-bull, and Christina pouted up a Richie the day they took her to the vet and he gave in immediately. Eddie wasn’t allowed to guilt them about either of these, because the animals ended up choosing him as their favorite and his husband and daughter would often catch Eddie baby-talking them and cuddling them when he thought no one was home. Stupid, cute, fluffy little shits.

Eddie came out of his bathroom, pajamas on, placing his prosthetic carefully in a drawer. He had never thought he’d end up getting one, but the modern day technology was truly amazing. When he initially lost his arm, he took up art therapy and ended up becoming really damn good at drawing and painting with his left, something he never realized he had even been good at in the first place, and he was slowly starting to work out how to get better with the motorized new arm at his side. He loved doing arts and crafts with Christina and doodling monsters and mythical creatures for her that she’d make up in her head so she could hang them all over her room and create stories about them in her notebooks.

“Daddy, can you walk me to class in the morning?” Christina asked Eddie, snuggling into Richie’s side in the bed.

“Like, up to the classroom?” Eddie asked curiously, flipping a light switch off, leaving only Richie’s bedside table lamp on in the room.

“Yeah, I like when you drop me off,” she said quietly. There was something off about her voice and the way it had shrunk that Eddie found unpleasant.

“Something going on we should know about, honey?”

Just as he suspected, she shyly hid her face under Richie’s arm and shook her head like a sneaky little guilty liar, and Richie pouted down at her, giving her a small squeeze.

“Are you scared of going back to school tomorrow?”

Eddie frowned, looking up and giving Richie a meaningful look, silently asking him to press a little more gently, since Christina had somehow buried herself further to hide.

“Honey, you know you can tell us, right?” Richie said gently, patting her hair gently.

She finally turned over, throwing her arms out dramatically across both of their chests. “They’re just so _mean_ all the time. Miss Leary never gets them in trouble because they all get good grades and never say anything around her and then they pick on me all lunch and recess!”

“Are you talking about that little Jeremy kid and all his little goonies?” Richie asked. Christina nodded fervently and Eddie scoffed.

“That kid is such a little asshole – ”

“Eds!” Richie chuckled, barely covering Christina’s ears as she giggled.

“Well, he is,” Eddie huffed. “Even his dad is a total fu – effing dillweed. I met him at their PTA meeting and I just about jammed my arm down his throat.”

“That’s why you gotta come to school, Daddy,” Christina said, turning over towards him. She was still wrapped in Richie’s arm and looked incredibly tiny against his giant body as she wrapped her little arms around his big one. “Every time you show up they don’t make fun of me.”

“Why is that?” Eddie asked slowly, trying to figure out how having a short, openly gay risk analyst for a dad didn’t promote more taunting at her expense.

“She told her class you were a Terminator and you had a bionic arm that could crush their tiny skulls,” Richie grinned. “I may or may not have confirmed it to the little Jeremy weasel when I picked her up from school once.”

“Richie, you can’t threaten children!”

“ _I_ did no such thing,” Richie said innocently.

“Christina,” Eddie sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “What are the other kids bugging you about?”

Christina’s giggles died down and she looked down shyly before she spoke quietly. “He – they all say I don’t have real parents and – and they said Papa isn’t funny – ” Richie opened his mouth defensively, but Eddie shot him a look to be quiet while she rambled. “ – and that I can’t have two daddies and I’m stupid because I can’t read and – and that I’m a teacher’s pet and I have beaver teeth and – ”

“Ok, ok,” Eddie hushed quietly, turning over face her. Truthfully, he was starting to get angry and hoped he could resist the very real urge to physically assault this little homophobic Jeremy turd the next day. It physically hurt his chest thinking about her being miserable at school. They had initially been nervous having her start elementary school, but she became sociable and hard-working right away. She was extroverted and chaotic like Richie, and soon proved to be studious and curious like Eddie was in school. But, it was only a matter of time before something would be bursting their perfect little bubble. “First of all, none of this is your fault, you know that right sweetheart? These kids, they… they say things like that, because, well…”

“They’re jealous?” Christina asked. “That’s what Miss Leary says.”

Eddie resisted the urge to roll his eyes so hard that he could feel them straining; even Richie did so behind Christina’s head. “S-sometimes… honestly, there are a whole lot of reasons other kids are mean, honey. But the most important thing to remember is that you didn’t do anything wrong, right? If they have a problem with you or something about you, that’s _their_ problem, not yours. You’re not stupid because you have dyslexia, your teeth are perfectly normal, and you know that you had – and have parents that love you very much.”

“We’re also super proud of you for telling us,” Richie added, giving her arm a small squeeze. “That takes a lot of balls.”

“Balls?” Christina asked, scrunching her face.

Eddie smacked his forehead. “Courage; he means courage,” he grumbled, already anticipating the call from the school when she would inevitably repeat the phrase at some point in the near future. “I know it can be really tough and scary when kids act like that. Your Papa and I went through a lot of that growing up.”

“You did?” she asked softly.

“A lot of kids do,” said Richie. “But it’s really important you talk to us about it and ignore them at school. Can’t be having you getting into fights because of other kids trying to mess with you. It’s best to be brave and walk away and stick with your friends and be losers together.”

“Be brave and walk away,” she repeated, seeming to settle down a bit. She knew by now their Loser mantra: when you’re a loser you have nothing to lose. The people that mind don’t matter and the people that matter won’t mind.

“If they keep it up I can talk to your teacher for you, OK?” Eddie offered, tucking her hair behind her ear. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll go Terminator on her, too. I love you, sweetheart.”

Christina giggled softly and settled into a sigh, finally relaxing and closing her eyes. “I love you, too Daddy. I love you Papa.”

“Love you, honey,” Richie whispered, kissing her softly on the back of the head.

Still exhausted from the weekend, it didn’t take long for her to start gently snoring into Richie’s elbow. Eddie sighed and looked up at him, rolling his eyes at the stupid pout on his face.

“Really, Rich?”

“Those kids don’t know what they’re talking about,” Richie huffed quietly. “I don’t see any of their parents with HBO specials; I’m funny as fuck.”

Eddie chuckled quietly, scooting closer and draping his arm over Christina and across Richie’s chest, kissing his shoulder. “You’re hysterical, sweetheart. Don’t let the mean kids tell you otherwise.”

* * *

Despite being an avid jogger, Eddie was not one for going about shirtless in public. He preferred not being stared at, which was hard enough when someone did a double-take to check out the amputee running down the sidewalk. He certainly wasn’t fond of exposing the scar tissue on his shoulder or the cluster in the center of his torso. Now here he was, standing on Stan’s living room on an old tarp, letting Richie pant his body from his head down to the waistband of his shorts while Patty was dying his hair.

“I look like the hulk,” Eddie said with his eyes closed tight as Richie tickled his face with a paint brush.

“Oh yeah. When I think of the hulk, I always picture a petite little twink.”

“No, asshole. I meant the shorts. He wears purple shorts, right?”

“Not quite like these sexy little biker shorts, honeycakes,” Richie chuckled, offering Eddie a little smack on his ass before starting to touch up the paint on Eddie’s neck. Eddie blinked his eyes open, his face feeling a little stiff, trying not to move his head while Patty was still working on his hair. Thankfully, the paint was very quick to dry.

“I’m not even going to style it,” Patty said from beside him, sitting up on the top of a small step ladder to lean above Eddie’s head. “It’s just going to be a hot-red mess. I think that’s good enough.”

“And it’ll all wash out in the shower?”

“Promise,” Patty said as she stepped down from the ladder.

Eddie took the opportunity to finally look down at Richie’s handiwork. Above the bright purple bike shorts, Richie had painted the rest of his bare body the rest of the colors of the rainbow, from blue, to green, to yellow, to orange, and now the red that Richie was finishing up under his chin and face. Patty had just finished working the washable red paint into Eddie’s hair. It was bright and vibrant, but still managed to leave his tattoos visible, including the fresh VII on his inner wrist that had matched the other Losers. When Richie finished, he came back around, smiling broadly down at Eddie. He felt incredibly silly, but he smiled back up at him.

“Adorable. Absolutely fucking adorable.”

“I feel a little old for this shit.”

“We’re not even 25 yet, Eddie my love. Besides, no matter how old you get, you are perfectly within your rights to celebrate your pride however the fuck you want.”

“What are you wearing then?”

“He’ll be wearing this,” said Patty, who popped up again with a tank top that said ‘Being Bi is Fly’ for Richie to change into.

“God, that’s so stupid; it’s perfect for you,” Eddie said as Richie changed into it. “It’s a new millennium, and you’re still throwing out words like ‘fly’ and ‘groovy.’”

“You sure it’s OK?” Richie asked cautiously. “I mean, I have gay pride stuff I can wear, too.”

“You’re not gay,” Eddie said firmly, stretching up on his tiptoes to kiss him. “This is your day, too. I’m proud of both of us.”

Richie smiled down and kissed him back, being gentle as to not rub too much of the paint on himself while it finished drying on his face. Eddie was still a little nervous, having never fully participated in Pride before like this. They had gone to the parades and watched from afar, or from a rooftop bar nearby, but never had actively participated so openly. Patty’s brother was with them, and he had brought his boyfriend Andy, who was sporting the new Transgender Pride flag as a cape and was otherwise shirtless, proudly revealing his chest for the first time now that he had recovered successfully from his top surgery. Even Stan was wearing a matching ally shirt with Patty. Eddie couldn’t remember how he managed to let Richie convince him to paint his entire top body as the rainbow, but now he was committed.

The crowd was so much livelier up close than Eddie had imagined, and it was hard to navigate and find a spot in the crowd. They were able to find a decent one eventually, but Eddie still couldn’t get a good view of the street.

“I can put you on my shoulders,” Richie offered, pulling Eddie into him.

“That’s – that’s OK,” Eddie stammered. “No one needs to see me that badly.”

“Hey,” Richie said, gently lifting Eddie’s chin up to look at him. “It’s Pride. You deserve to be up there. It’s our day, right? Besides, it would be a crime if I didn’t show the world how goddamn gorgeous you are.”

Eddie giggled and felt like he should be blushing just as dark as the red paint on his face, allowing himself to bury it in Richie’s chest for a moment while Richie’s engulfed him into an enormous, warm hug. He took a deep breath, letting Richie duck down between his legs, yelping slightly as the giant of a man lifted him high above the surrounding crowd.

“Good view my little love?” Richie called up at him, grinning broadly from between Eddie’s legs and squeezing his thighs gently.

“The best,” said Eddie, beaming down at him.

It was scary, being this visible. But Eddie looked around and admired the vastness of the crowd, seeing all the people around him that had spent their lives being called freaks and queers and survived to make it to this moment. He took in all their courage and joy and cheered along with them, unable to stop himself from peaking down at Richie, brushing through his wild hair and smiling down at his wonderful face and letting him know how happy he was to be here with him in this moment. Eddie would constantly be amazed at how full and rich his life would be after everything they’d been through. There was so much he was still trying to accept about himself, but he had the best partner to share it all with. He would forever be shocked at how this foul-mouthed, hysterical, obnoxious boy from his childhood could love him so completely and beautifully for the rest of their lives. This moment will be just another story someday for them. But god, they’d have so many more of them to come, and Eddie would cherish every single one of them.

.


End file.
